Rose Acre Place

A week or so ago, I wrote about my friend's ex-house (not my ex-friend's house...). Today I was able to get out of my car and walk around a little. If anything I wanted my friend to see some of the changes that have taken place at his house.

I also wanted to include some of his words he sent to me when he commented on my other post (here's the link if you missed it: Pictures I Took Today).

"It took me a few seconds to realize that you were talking about me--that this was *my* house. Built with wooden nails in the age of the Civil War, the house and surrounding land was called Rose Acre Place. And it was a beautiful, humble little estate befitting of the name."

I loved the way the homestead had a name. We don't do that very much anymore...

"What I see now, somewhat mercifully, bears almost no resemblance to the home in which I grew up--where my father before me was raised. Where his grandparents lived and died. It certainly is no longer Rose Acre Place.

Gone is the huge pine tree to the west that shielded the side of the house you can see in these photos. Along with the tree swing it held, of course.

Also gone are the line of trees that shaded the little stream which ran parallel to the road--tamed no doubt by a cement pipe lost under that new, ragged jumble of earth. It was there as a little boy that I used to look for frogs and water skeeters, and sing, somewhat inexplicably, old Everly Brothers tunes."

Just wanted to thank my friend for his input. I can tell he really loved his childhood home.