the Red House, my family's place in the Wisconsin countryside. Nothing compares to its decrepit majesty, and I love it more than any other place on earth. The story goes that it went fire-engine red during one of the World Wars, when paint was scarce, and at this point it's an icon to the locals; several times I've heard directions explained in relation to our house. Changing the color would be sacrilege.
A river, nine ponds, acres of forest and meadows. Care to canoe?
Everything is wrong with it -- bats in the attic, snakes in the basement and insane Heywoods & Vaughans inbetween -- but I want my children in its tree and my ashes on its meadows. I planted those hydrangeas as a child. By way of an introduction, I thought I'd show you this little bit of me, my childhood in solid form, one of the places I love most.
Next time I'll tell you about one of the fun things to do there: the Amish auction in Coloma! (and puppies.)
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1 comments:
Oh, I LOVED going here with you guys. That's so wonderful that it's still in the family. There's nothing quite like the big red house!
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