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“Our house is a very, very, very nice house”
Our House by Crosby, Stills, & Nash

Whenever I find myself admiring our house (which is often), like I did this morning as the first snow of the season was falling, I hear those words and the melody of that song playing in my head. That song, for me, perfectly captures a feeling of comfortable domesticity: “I’ll light the fire while you place the flowers in the vase that you bought today, ay, ay, ay……..”

I really like our house. There are countless more expensive houses, bigger houses, houses with granite counter tops and all stainless steel appliances, etc but this is my favorite house. I honestly don’t know of a single house that I have ever seen that I would trade this house for. Sure, part of the reason is that I built this house; I am proud of what my hands have wrought, damn right. But I would really like this house if someone else had built it.

I really, really, really like our house when the chill of late autumn signals that it’s time to light the fire in the woodstove. On chill autumn evenings I sometimes stand outside savoring the warm glow of the living room lights through the windows. I stand under the big pine trees just long enough to feel the chill then I come in and stand in front of the woodstove and look around at the chinked log walls, my framed PCT medallion, the high-up stained glass window and all the other details that make our house OUR HOUSE.

Vera likes our house too……….

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