Old houses are markers of the changing world. I personally like big ones. Here's mine in 1910.
And here it is today, scoured of balustrades, pergola, awnings, flower boxes, fretwork, gravel paths, garden statuary (the original big stuff, that is), annual beds, and a whole lot of servants. Like myself, however, it is not without residual charm.
The house and I aren't bearing witness alone to the passage of time. She'll be 32 next week.
She's married to a stand-up guy (I'm relieved to note). (And that's me, not the SUG).
And has a baby of her own, my granddaughter, Lily.
Happy New Year, and thank you for reading my blog.