PersephoneOn the final stretch of the walk home, it takes four right turns to reach my home. It says something of the topology of the place that this is not too rare a thing; there is land here upon which they built that makes these approaches spectacular. My home is not entirely like this. The grade to the walk is gentle, and the front of the house sits somewhat grand against the sky, nearly prim in its straight lines and steady edifice. This is the presentation side of the house, and while there is scruff (and work to be done: the situation with the porch requires some remedy), on the whole from the street the house is a solid member of the community. It is proud to stand here.
One may approach from the rear as well, up a thin alley with a most elegant name. From this side, the house is mystery, private behind tall maples and locusts, shrouded in shade all from Spring to Fall, dormers peeking over. I have not seen it yet behind the thin fingers of the trees in winter, but I imagine the effect will remain. From the alley, one must move careful on the path, from sunken stone to sunken stone, amidst a riot of welcome growth. It is peaceful in that yard, and even within, I find myself most often in the rooms closer to it.
In the evenings, I watch the moon climb the sky from the chair on the porch, and the wind already tastes of the change in the season.
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