I'm still here... And so is Tom when actually he's supposed to be at work, but he strained his back last night moving things around in the barn, things I assured him I'd move around today. So perhaps I will take the car on the long ride to shop for groceries-- or perhaps not. In the country, I am still learning, you must be flexible and you may as well like it.

And I have a new project. This weekend we went to our favorite kind of estate sale, one held inside an 1800's farmhouse where we were allowed to wander up stairs and down and snoop in drawers. The house was dilapidated, neglected, but inspiring and I almost swooned when I saw the library in a closet. I love to step into surprises in old houses, places where people once gave their imaginations some room and some hands.

And while we traveled home I longed to make more surprises inside my own old house and I thought of one. Remember our upstairs half bath-maybe-someday, the tiny room I am painting blue? Often I stand in there simply because it feels like I've stepped outside into the tree top just outside the window and well, why wait to make this a useful room? So I'm thinking of gathering boards from the barn, wrapping wallpaper around them then making shelves for all my books for my own 'library in a closet,' my own surprise room.

I realized this week that my favorite rooms in decorating blogs are those with arrangements I've never before seen, with combinations of items never put together by anyone else. Rooms which show much thought, imagination and love of design and home--but not much money. To me, imagination speaks much louder than expensive things.

So I'll be busy up there and I'll try to get back down here to the computer and Blogland when I can. But I just thought I'd let you know where I will be.

I so meant to take photos of the orange trees and the golden light they cast upon yards and farmhouses, but the autumn got away from me. I promise to try harder next year. In the meantime here are our own naked woods, woods I'll love this winter because they're a million times greater than that ugly brick wall we stared at outside our dining room windows for 14 years at our old house.

And in case you've wondered, I almost never think about our old house. I don't miss it one iota. Tom doesn't either, in fact, three times he's smiled and told me, "I love this house." Why do I recall it's been three times? Because not once do I remember him ever saying that about any of our previous houses. Amazing. He did love a garage we had once, but alas, I'm not counting that. :)