wistful wednesday

  

Sweet P and I have been taking advantage of this awesome weather by going on walks around Simpsonville.  And despite the fact that we pretty much walk the same parts of Main Street each day, I can't help but noticing something new on each adventure.

I must have walked past this treasure a hundred times.  But for some reason the other day, I became completely taken with it.  Some part of me must own this house some day.

 I think it has something to do with the delicious olive color.  Garsh I love green.  Especially the way it adorns this gem. 

I love green in all shades.  Even the old, rusted shed shades.

 My heart aches for this poor, departed tree.  But, wouldn't it make such a wonderful seat for a young vendor with their first lemonade stand?

 This open gate beckons me to come on in, and make this place my own.  Sure the yard needs sprucing up, and the condition of the fence leaves something to be desired.

 

But you better believe that these shaded rockers would get some use out of them.  Morning coffee.  Lunch time chats.  And bedtime stories with our shorty.  I would say those traditions are primarily reserved for the Summer months, but apparently Summer begins in January when you live down South.

Maybe I love this house because it bares the same street number as my childhood home, just a few miles from here.

 

Or maybe it's just the olive that has stolen my heart.  What would Behr call that paint color?  Artichokie Asparagus.  Fern Gully.   Sophisticated Ivy.  Scotland's Fields of Summer. 

Of course, no blog post would be complete without a shot of Sweet P.  And she is the one who yanks me back to reality with this look that says, "time to go home and feed me."  Even her disapproving looks are adorable.

sag

UPDATE:  Since posting this, my loving husband (who I discovered actually reads my blog) shattered my dreams.  The conversation went something like this.

z:  Where is this house?

s:  Down the street.

z:  Where down the street?  When you go to the end of our street and turn right is it the first house?

s:  Yeah...

z:  Babe, we will never live in that house.  That is the house where the two guys got into a fight in the front yard while I was running by.  That is the house that was busted for the meth lab that one day a couple months ago.  We could not ever live there.

s:  [single tear rolls down cheek]

So much for living out my days in that tiny dream.  So much for my brilliant submissions to Behr paint.  I suppose we will call this shade of green, Roving Meth Lab.