The house in winter
Anything in your house that may look dirty and worn-out this winter probably seemed pleasantly rustic last summer—I know this from experience. In my college years I spent summers at a big, stripped-down old house perched above the Delaware River. Though the wildflowers we collected and arranged in chipped mugs were our only “decoration,” those hot days on the romantically ruinous porch were sweetly scented. Nights spent on a cot mattress laid on the floor enhanced the sense that we were at camp. Later, that first summer living in Gloucester, when I was very pregnant, it didn’t matter that the rental was too small; a deck overhung the saltwater river and sunshine streamed through skylights cut as an afterthought. Tanglemoor, my family’s home for 30 years, has spent summers thrown open…
