Day 28 ~ 31 Haiku in Search for a Voice ~

The hands of stone walls
Live in wondrous history
And love of the craft.

When Barry and I looked at our current home with our real estate agent, we were not even thinking of moving. We had lived in our town previously and moved for commuting-to-work reasons, but always dreamed of moving back to Bristol, RI. Our daughter Jane was living here in Bristol and each time we’d visit, we’d pass this little house on the main street into town, a house that had been on the market for quite some time. The day we toured the house, I went inside and Barry wandered behind the garage to check out the yard. I knew the house needed some major renovations and headed to the back yard to tell Barry that people “our age” (!!!!) may not have the energy for this. When Barry saw me, he said, “Let’s make an offer.” I was stunned and told him of the inside work. He stood there looking at the back yard that faces the Mill Pond that faces the harbor that borders the bike path that travels all the way to Providence and pictured our gaggle of grandkids running and playing in that yard – even football was possible. We bought the house. And that back yard has been filled with grandkids ever since, 11 now and another due in May. But another amazing thing about that back yard are the Daffodils and Iris that bloom each year, the giant holly bush and gorgeous Rose of Sharon, too, planted by the loving hands of the owner previous to our sellers. Then there’s the stone wall, or remnants of a stone wall, at the very edge of our property and our neighbor’s, near the bike path that was once a railroad. I love this stone wall. I always want to research it, but haven’t had time. The homes in our section of town are mid-19th century and earlier, so I can only imagine the history, workmanship, reasons and love for this wall. I think it’s a Haiku in Search of a Voice!