Looking out my Backdoor: The trumpet vines, the grasses, and the frothy pines

One of my friends asked me how I felt when I came back to the Rancho and my old home sat there empty of any aspect of myself.

That’s a hard question to answer. For one thing, I’ve been so busy, focused on creating my new home, that I have little space in my head for my old home.

Until I find a buyer, my old home is still my home. Maybe all the ties are not cut. The good memories and all the love that place has given me will never be erased. I hope a new owner someday will feel the same. I’d still be there if the largeness of the place had not become too difficult for me to maintain.

I like it...