There is something exhilarating to me about the hidden nooks and crannies of old houses and the gardens that surround them. The attics and basements, the crawl spaces and barely reachable places between fence and woodpile evoke that feeling of mystery and discovery that gets left behind as we graduate from childhood.
Or maybe it’s just me. After all, some of the best times of my girlhood were spent right here in Oysterville in this very house and in this old, gnarly garden. I don’t think there is a corner inside or outside that I haven’t explored. Yet, every time I ‘rediscover’ a view or vantage point, I am thrilled anew.
Yesterday, the two parts of the moss-encrusted tree trunk caught my eye. It is leaning far to the north, a whorly gray and lime-green frame for the bright pink rhodie blossoms behind it. I’ve been after Nyel to cut down that old tree and he has dragged his feet. As usual, he is right.
Between the woodpile and the gazebo is a dark and silent place that the chickens know about. They sometimes shelter there from the rain. Even on a sunny day, it is dark and mysterious there, overhung with a tangle of pear branches and honeysuckle and lush green rhododendron leaves. I imagine it’s a nice resting place for garter snakes and frogs on hot summer days.
And back behind the the lilacs and camellias on the east side of the house, the bay windows overhang the foundation and hide the entrances to the crawl spaces beneath the original rooms – the ones constructed in 1869. I haven’t been under there for years. It’s where we used to find bits and pieces of old crockery and the shells from tiny native oysters. It’s sort of creepy, but the workmen who occasionally need to go there tell me it’s dry and vermin-free. Good to know.
I don’t often go up into the attics, either. It’s not that they’re scary, but getting there involves ladders and I’m not very keen on them anymore. In truth I never was. But I like knowing that those spaces are up there, ready to accept another trunk full of ‘stuff’ if need be.
Never mind that I keep trying (unsuccessfully) to rid the house of all those ‘treasures’ and clean up the garden debris… I console myself that future generations shouldn’t be deprived of the discoveries awaiting in the hidey-holes and secret places.
Being a fan of moss (which is good in our climate) I think your old tree trunk beautiful! I, too, like places where you or stuff can hide although our house has no attic, but the barn does, of a fashion. I am also attempting to rid myself of things and not leave too much junk for the children and grandchildren. Alas, I come from a long line of packrats on my mother’s side and letting go is not in our nature. I say I am in recovery. Lovely pictures, lovely post.