"Home" For The Holidays

The strange thing about getting older is that Dorothy's old adage:  "there's no place like home" becomes true in a strange way -- there's no place like the home [you remember] because home changes.  And you do too.  And those memories that anchor you in your past even alter in their proportion and meaning -- while you move farther from then and toward a something that they couldn't have predicted.

We went to Coshocton over the weekend, for Lynn's family's Early Thanksgiving celebration.

One of the things we did was tour Grandma Erman's house, empty now of her memorable carpet and mixed - match heirloom furniture, and between renters.  It was strangely empty and in a way unfamiliar, but in another way profoundly evocative.  Not unlike this view from the back of the house.  I've always loved this tree and the clothesline was ALWAYS full of Grandma's things.  Summer, Winter, Spring & Fall.  The clothespins seem like vestiges of memories now.

I wandered up to the barn for awhile too, and snapped photographs of time's ruthless march forward....you can see the collection of my obsessive archival work on flickr if you're interested...

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