So there’s this house. It’s down the street a couple miles – right near a wine bar that we sometimes visit. Across from a petting zoo on a farm that bought and re-installed all the neato stuff from The Enchanted Forest from my childhood.
So there’s this house. It was a burned out shell. An eyesore.
Until someone bought it. And every time I drove past, I was excited that the burned out house would be returned to home status. It was thrilling.
So I watched.
In the first months, it got walls. And a roof.
Later…much later…it got shingles. Really fancy schmancy shingles. And it stayed like that – a raw shell of a house with a fancy roof – for a long, long time.
And then one day, I noticed some stone work starting. The house was taking some sort of shape. And they built some lovely steps. Still, the porch needed some work and some plans. It was very unfinished. Unloved.
And one day, they put a door in. A door with an intricate cut glass design embedded. A very ornate door.
Then the porch work started. It had carved wood and stone and brick. The details couldn’t be missed.
And then it sat for a while.
One day, I noticed a brass figurine being hoisted to the facade below the roof line. Now that was a surprise.
It’s almost complete, I thought.
But I thought wrong.
Over the next weeks and months, I saw more woodwork, more stonework, more bricks. More glass and more columns. Don’t even ask me about the columns.
And then, the landscaping began. There are stone gardens. There are tall grass gardens. Flowers and greenery and topiaries. The landscapers who got this gig must be planning a trip around the world with the profit from this one.
And then, I thought, it had to be finished. What more could they do to this house?
And then, the trim got painted.
Today, I drove past and there were 2 Bentwood Rockers on the porch. There was an old couple rocking.
And there they were, in the most outwardly decorated home of all time, rocking on the porch overlooking the petting zoo with the castle and the Mother Goose.
I pulled in next door at Ironbridge to buy a bottle of Albarino.
And it occurred to me that the house would never be completed. This house, like so many other things in life, is a work in progress.