Hearing the sound of birds chirping coming up the crushed asphalt driveway. Facing the drive sits the two car garage, and house to the left. The screen door has slightly worn stain, and the inside door squeaks every now and then. The brown old wood floor is rustic, and the hardwood could use a clear coat.
The kitchen with the stone look wall is inviting. The smell of wood fills every room and sometimes a spicy candle too.
Unveiled windows fill the front where sunshine pours in and in the early evening sunset can be seen. Squirrels and birds can be seen eating from the feeders and playing in the yard.
The energy is calming, and peaceful. In the winter months, the pellet stove fills the place with heat and a faint firey light. The ambiance abducts those that enter.
Now you can see why this is my safe haven, to me, the safest place in the world. This is my home.
For me, I need a little sour in with the sweet to feel the true savor of the dish. If I were describing my house, I'd lay out the things I love, but I'd mention the unconventional things other people might not think are so nice like the six dog beds I can see from my computer and the 4,592 dog bones scattered in and around those beds, and then I'd go on to describe the things I hate but have to live with like my wife's unused piano and unused organ--yep, they're home too.
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