This Old House

This is the house I grew up in.  My parents moved into this house in October 1963, I was 2 months old. 

This is a very old house!  It was moved from Bacchus Village in the 1920's or 30's -- but this house has sheltered us, and I have great memories, funny memories, and I feel so blessed to have had a stable place to call home. 

We used to play baseball, kickball, football, steal-the-flag, kick-the-can and other games on the lawn.  Mark practiced for the bow hunt....and all the boys took turns throwing apples, tomatoes and anything else they could get their hands on, at passing cars.  I layed in bed one morning of our trip and thought about how much I love this old house.  This is where I first discovered my own faith, where I scraped my lumpy oatmeal into my brothers bowls, when they weren't looking -- and where I slammed the storm door so hard (because I was mad at Mark) that it shattered.  I was 14 years-old at the time.....it was a Sunday, I was so mad that I stomped over to the church and found my Dad, where-upon, I burst into tears and confessed!  He said something about learning to control my temper...and that was the end of it.  The storm door wasn't replaced for many years....

I added this picture, of Mark pulling me in the wagon, so you can see the difference in the size of the trees over 48 years.....

Kurt, Mark and me -- Easter Sunday

This picture shows the original, salmon colored shingles....and the full front porch, across the front of the house.  When I was a teenager, we added a room on half of the porch -- it had a wood-burning stove for many years, and eventually was converted to office and computer space.

The grandkids love this old house too!

So thankful for this old house and the love that surrounds it!