The Red House at Easter

As we drove by the Red House on our flower delivery to the cemetery, we noted that the cousins were hard at work.  Two were on the porch roof painting the west wall and we had no doubt that others were hard at it elsewhere on the property. Five cars parked in the lane next to the house sported license plates from Idaho, Oregon and Washington.  Work Weekend at the Red House.

It happens once or twice a year – maybe oftener.  R.H. Espy descendants (through the Cecil Espy line) gather at the old house to patch, paint, prop and otherwise keep the 1872 structure in good enough shape for year ‘round visiting and vacation fun.  The worker bees included R.H.’s great, two-times-great, and three-times great grandchildren – the oldest in their seventies, the youngest barely two years old.

The Youngest Descendant

On our way home, we stopped by.  I was hoping for a photo or two to ‘document’ the Memorial Weekend activities at the Red House but already the ladders and paint cans were being stowed and Anna was in the dining room squeezing about a gazillion limes for Margaritas.  As they say, timing is everything.  Photo ops forgotten.  Let the cocktail hour begin!

We stayed long enough to exchange family news, village gossip, county stupidities.  I wondered idly what our venerable ancestors, R.H. and Julia Espy, might be thinking if they were watching from on high.  Pretty pleased and proud, I imagine.  As the eldest R.H. descendant at the gathering (and perhaps the eldest, period), I know I was!  Proud as punch!  Or, in this case, Margaritas!