Remember this old farmhouse? I pass it on my way to work at the winery.
It's weathered, but has wonderful stonework on and around it, a working windmill (at least it spins!) and outbuildings oozing in character. As far as I could tell it was abandoned, which made me sad, so I wrote about it HERE.
But guess what? I've been training a young woman whose family actually lives next door to it.
They own and operate a youth camp across the road, and as it turns out, they also own the old house and the surrounding property. She says their dream is to renovate it and convert it to a tea house/bed and breakfast.
Yay! I'm so glad.
My house smells like dog. Old dirty, country dog, to be specific.
Thunderstorms rolled through last night, continuing into the morning, so we let Belle and Max be house dogs for awhile. They're restricted to the downstairs (concrete floor.) The laundry room has a rug, though, and I spread a light blanket out just at the bottom of the stairs.
Tom didn't think that was enough. This morning I discovered he put some cushions from our old pop-up trailer down, then re-spread the blanket over them.
And he says I'm the soft one.
Of course, Josie, the princess grandpuppy, slept upstairs on the couch. In my defense, she's relatively clean. She learned early on that if she got wet or rolled in the mud on her visits, that she wouldn't be allowed in the house.
My dogs would choose rolling in the mud over sleeping in the house. They're happiest outside...except during thunderstorms.
(Another round is on top of us now! We need the rain, but I sure hope we don't get the damaging hail folks farther west got last night!)
My daughter-in-law sent me the link to the wedding photographs last night. All 600+ of them. I spent two hours clicking on each and every one. And smiling. I wish I could afford to buy them all and share them with you!
Our loquat tree is dotted with fruit. It's the grandbaby of one that stood in the front yard of the house we lived in when each of our children were born, and where they spent the first few years of their lives...and the child of one that grew from a cutting in my parents' front yard, tempting neighborhood kids who passed on the nearby sidewalk.
It's the last of its line. A hard freeze killed the grandmother and I'm not sure what happened to the mother. But thanks to Daddy, they live on with us.
A squirrel mom took a liking to Tom's GMC truck and built a nest there for her babies.
We're just leaving them alone for now and praying they don't chew up any wires...or that the dogs don't chew up the truck trying to get to the squirrels, like they did on Tom's other truck.
That's life in the country.
Random 5 Friday at A Rural Journal