My other life
We spent this past weekend on the family farm in southeastern North Carolina. This seems to be becoming the norm rather than the exception. At least two weekends a month, we pack up the dogs and head to the farm as soon as possible after I get off work on Fridays, and we don't come back until Sunday evening. It's not that we don't like the city or don't want to be here, because of course we do. It's just that going to the farm is sort of like going camping, but better. We get to hang out with my very cool parents. We get to feed the chickens and gather (and eat!) the fresh eggs. We get to be outdoors as much as we want, and watch the birds and the dogs and even the deer feeding on the edge of the woods. It's all very laid back.
When we're on the farm, we stay in The House With The Crooked Floor . . . and we're trying to fix it up, little by little. The floor may be crooked (several windows are crooked, too), but this is a special house. Built by my great-grandparents in approximately 1905 on land that's been on one side or another of the family since before the U.S. Civil War, this is special house on a special plot of land . . . to me.
I've mentioned previously that my Dad grew up in this house. I, too, lived here -- from the ages of 5 to 11. When I lived here, the front bedroom (my room) had orange shag carpet. Back in the 70s, baby, that orange shag carpet was the deal. :-) It's not there anymore, though.
Betcha wanna know how the house became crooked. Well, it didn't have anything to do with politics. Many years ago, my uncle (who lived in this house until he passed away a few years ago) wanted to move the house further back from the road. He hired a crew to move it, and they lifted it up from the foundation. Suddenly, the house began to crack, so they had to put it back down. And the legend was born.
Our favorite part of the house is the front porch. We love sitting in the front porch swing with our morning coffee. The porch is slightly hidden by Camelia and Azalea bushes. The Camelias are currently in bloom (Yes! In November!) There's a big oak tree in the front yard that's been here longer than anyone remembers.
When you're sitting on the porch, you can watch the traffic go by, or you can watch the horses on my cousin's farm across the road. Both of these activities can be quite entertaining. Believe me.
Anyway, that's the story behind the story of The House With The Crooked Floor. And now you know where many of our weekends are spent. This is my other life, and I love it! (S loves it, too!)