I had driven by, my husband and I had driven by, a close friend and I drove by.... by the old cottage for years... on the lake, a large, flat lot and set in the middle, a faux Tudor, single story cottage, in semi-neglectdom... no real driveway, just a long grassed berm that sometime parked cars from Michigan in the summer and always banked snow in solitude in the winter.
Two giant willows aged with the cottage on the left driveway side, one near the house and the twin nearer the lake. They counted off the passing decades, with a towering pine tree tight to the right side of the house, it's dense branches laying heavy to the grassless, needled ground.
The lot was so wide and seemed so isolated that somehow the cottage seemed suspended in time and separated by space from adjacent buildings.
And this old cottage pulled me, slowed my car down, widened my pupils... every time I drove by, made me mention it when talking about where I'd like to move next to, made me think what could be.
And it was.
No comments:
Post a Comment