Literally from day 1, we’ve been learning about the history of this place and its past occupants. The appliance repairman, various package delivery folks, neighbors, etc. – it seems like everyone we encounter has a story to add. Some of these are just plain old gossip, and aren’t really of significant interest. Others have helped us understand otherwise inexplicable things like “why is the front walk missing?” or “is that really straw I see down that heating duct?”. (Most of those seem to end up having to do with chickens. Our predecessors seemed to approach chicken-having a bit differently than we do.)
As we’ve continued to work on clearing the trash from the studio, we’ve found a steady stream of additional hints about those who called this land home before we did. What we call the studio had been, as we understand it, the childhood home of one of the sellers, and hasn’t been lived in since previous generations (the seller’s parent and grandparents) had moved on. Accordingly, its clues are more dated, its echoes of previous lives more faint and distant.
It’s been funny how many of these tidbits relate to bits of our current lives.
Apparently English Springer Spaniels were once bred and trained here. We found breeding logs, pictures, and this cute statuette in the studio, and I wonder as I watch our springer Molly cavort around if she has any awareness that “her people” have been here for decades.
We’ve found bonsai pots (Josh grows bonsai) and photography books.
I particularly like this line of code and what seem to be notes from some software design scrawled on an exposed I-beam in the basement of the studio. (Someone must have been out of note paper when inspiration struck, I guess.)