There is a spot in my yard, that makes me feel like I have stepped back into time. Lilac bushes and Quaking Aspen are planted there. I am not the one that planted them. The bushes and trees were here when we bought the place. The people we bought from were in their 80's; and often when I walk around the yard, I have thought to myself an older generation is revealed in the way the trees and flowers are planted.
I like it. I have always wanted an old two-story farm house, complete with the yard that generally goes with that iconic home. I don't know; maybe the kind of house in which Timmy lived of the television show Lassie. Or maybe Dorothy's home in the Wizard of Oz. ( That would be before the tornado hit.) There is just a very definite feel about those old homes - so much strength and character. Almost like the walls and floors hold history that speaks directly and deeply into ones heart. Anyway, those old homes always had a certain type of yard, as well. Big locust trees, and strong iron gates. Places for a kid to hide and perfect shade for aging adults.
I don't remember a time in my life that I didn't want a home like that. It's obvious that I have passed the place in my life that I am ever going to get one....this side of Heaven, anyway. ;-) But that's ok; I love our home as it is. And I have that specific place in my yard which feels like a small gift from God - just because He's always known of my life-long desire.
Every time I go to this spot - to mow, or to smell the Lilacs, or just to pause for a moment - I sense that feeling that I was striving for in my quest for the two-story farm house that I always wanted. It's my little piece of old-fashioned. A desire of my heart is fulfilled there. It is my favorite spot in the yard, as unlikely as that might seem. There is nothing to do there. No place to rest; no flower bed to weed. I have a bench picked out at the local farm store that will fit perfectly there so that I will one day be able to sit and read, or maybe just rest. The photo really doesn't do it justice; but imagine the sweet fragrance of flowering lilacs, and the shimmering leaves of the aspen quaking in the soft, summer breeze. Picture a Robin or a Flicker hiding at the top of the tree but rustling the leaves just enough that you know a bird is there and you will have a taste of my piece of old-fashioned.