I grew up on a dairy farm.
I’m sure I’ve idealized it, but the home in which I grew up was the most beautiful home I’ve ever seen.
Of course, this photo was taken at least 30 (50? 70?) years before my parents ever laid eyes on the place. By the time we lived there, the large tree on the left was gone and the pear tree on the right was huge. Both ornate front porches had rotted away. Halfway through my childhood, my parents replaced the porch off the kitchen on the left and, 5 years or so before we sold the farm, my dad began the laborious project of restoring the original front porch. Since we’ve left, the new owners have made their own changes. (But we don’t even like to drive past to see them.)
Sometimes, I still miss this house with its wide hallways, thick, dark banister and warm honey blond, original, uneven hardwood floors.