We’ve been in our house for a week now, although we still don’t have furniture (it comes tomorrow! YAY!). The Old Vicarage, as it’s named, is a 200+-year old brick and stucco house with, happily, majorly updated bathrooms and a lovely modern kitchen. And as I stand at my sink, looking out the window, this is what I see:
The church which stands just on the other side of the stone wall that borders our yard was built in the mid 1300’s. We haven’t been inside yet, but looking at it from here is dreamy enough. It’s a view you can’t get sick of.
The English don’t have a reputation for their amazing gardens for nothing; our yard is bordered by and entwined with gorgeous flowers, herbs, bushes, and trees. So far, we’ve identified a few pear trees, a plum tree, at least 3 varieties of apple tree, and two other fruit trees I don’t know. I’ll have to ask a neighbor. We have big plans for all the ripening fruit.
It’s a garden that begs to be walked through, hidden in, and enjoyed. There are trees in our yard that probably are older than America. It’s humbling and thrilling all at once.
There are plenty of quirks in this old house: uneven walls, crooked door frames, inexplicable bump-outs, and wavy-paned glass windows. I love every last one of them.
And these are the keys to our castle, just as charming as the house itself. We may be just temporary caretakers of this beautiful old place, but we’re already in love with her. For now, at least, she’s home.