Home

It seems that no matter where I am living or what I am doing, my parent's house will always have a feeling of "Home". Even though I have been sleeping on the couch there for years I know I always can. Things that trigger that nostalgic feeling for me is Papa yelling, "Woman!" when he is trying to get my moms undivided attention. Or the way he affectionately calls the cat, "You lazy old mutt." In fact any new animal brought into the house becomes a "mutt" once it is accepted.













My mom loves to help everyone. Sometimes this helping becomes her taking over, but we smile and usually just let her. She is extremely creative and loves to share her projects.













I love that when I am "Home" there is always some large animal claiming the brush. For years my folks have had llamas. How this came to be I don't know, but there they are staking their territory over the briers and weeds. "Get to the barn and feed the animals." A command I have been hearing for years. It used to be to my Sis and I, now my mom has taken over the claim of "feeding the animals."













We always had a garden. It used to be a huge 2 acre spread, now it is in planters outside the back door. Papa must have his little garden to tinker around in.













Even though my sis and I have moved on and away from my parents place. (I think ran was more accurate when we finished high school.) Their house will ways be a place of "home". With couches purchased new in the 80's. A cat that sounds like a wounded baby bobcat. A compost manure pile that would be any gardeners dream. And a pump house full of a food preservers wonder and awe. "Home".