A poem by J.F. Conant

He who loves an old house never loves in vain. How can an old house used to sun and rain, to lilac and to larkspur and an elm above-ever fail to answer the heart that gives it love?

Wednesday, September 28, 2011

Doesn't this just make you want to drive around in a convertable?

1 comment:

Granny Annie said...

It makes me want to be a drummer:)