Old Things

Along with our house came some old things. Take, for instance, this latch to our bathroom door. Visitors to our house have a hard time figuring it out. Honestly, I puzzled over it a bit myself. Our boys used to find themselves locked in the bathroom after every use because of this antique-of-a-closure.

Another old thing of interest is the nearly-ladder of a staircase up to our attic and the crazy old remnant of a chimney you'll find once you've employed those ladder-stairs. Its stalwart bricks remain, reminiscing the sweet smell of wood fire and the good old days when they were useful. They are now past their prime, no longer connected to a wood stove or fireplace, oozing with thick, ancient tar, awaiting their day of disposal.

If you come to admire old things, you must experience our cellar. Walls of hand-picked stones, dirt floor, low ceiling lined with hand-hewn beams (many of which still have their bark), and a dark, narrow passageway to the crawl space that I hope never to have to crawl into.

So many old things, you see, because, our darling home herself is a relic from times past. Yes, she has had updates along the way (we have plumbing and electricity!) but she is unquestionably old. Her age, to me, is a charming feature. I like to wonder about all she's experienced and seen. I'm sure Auburn wasn't the first to be born within these walls. I think about the men who built her with their hands, without power tools or lumber yards and the women who maintained her while nurturing their families. Amazing, these people were, and they made my home amazing as well.