As it is and as it might be

We are getting closer. Closer to our new house, closer to Gilbertsville, closer to packing boxes and boxes and boxes and making the move. Yesterday, we had the inspection. While Patrick walked around with the guy, listening attentively (I can only hope) to talk of flashing and soffits, sashes, storms, and grading, I wandered from room to room, snapping pictures and imagining. This is how we roll: Patrick, logical, practical, and less given to heady romanticism; Me, given completely and unabashedly to heady romanticism.

I walked around, ticking off important things on my new house to-do list. Like, Find a place for my vintage tablecloths. And, Figure out where our Christmas tree is going to go. Picture our kids' faces when they come down the stairs Christmas morning. See? Important things.

This is one of the bedrooms. I'm more than a little in love with this room, with its sweet matched closets and little dresser nook. The colors must go, but we'll address that later.

The inspector was at it a long time. I jotted notes. I drew a future kitchen floor plan, and considered the possibilities of wide-plank shelving under the back stairs. I ate a few handfuls of blueberries from my very own soon-to-be blueberry bush. I picked a corner where we might, someday, put a woodstove.

But mostly, I saw it as it is and as it might be. There is much work to be done. Much painting and de-carpeting and wallpaper-stripping. But, we know what we will ask of it. And we are ready for what it will ask of us.