the Life and Times of Warrior Woman

blonde recluse. nihilarian pronk.

summer house.

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(Mich, the last picture features a horse.)

Three years ago on this date I lost my maternal grandfather.  We were estranged (he divorced my gran to start another family), and he didn’t recognise me on the street when I passed him by.  It was actually one of the very few times I’ve seen him after their divorce.

The thing is, most of my grandfather memories are connected to this summer house.  Back when grandparents were still together we’d go there every weekend.  It had lots of trees and a vegetable garden, and although we almost never stayed the night (it was half an hour drive from home anyway) it still felt pretty lived in and cosy.

So these are the memories I’d like to keep most.  The house was sold in 2009, unfortunately.  There was a lot of drama and baggage attached to it, but I still say ‘unfortunately’, because I was happy there as a kid.  It was fun.

Back in May 2009 I went there two times to finalise the sale.  I didn’t cry (I generally don’t), but I still get this little ~feeling~ whenever I look at these photos.

I think it’s called ‘regret’.

The snail agrees.  Yes, my adventure began with a close encounter with this creature.  There have always been lots and lots of snails there, and not the puny little ones we get at villa either.

My grandfather changed some things, but it’s actually quite like I remember it.  The gas pipe wasn’t there before.

Overgrown and abandoned, with some signs of barbecue activity.

First time I looked at this flower closely, I thought it was a caterpillar.  Nope.  All part of original design.

As grandfather got older and stopped working on the house, it became quite unkempt.  (By law, it belonged to my family, but it was de facto occupied by grandfather’s new wife’s son, so I couldn’t go there.  ooh, drama~)

Take a guess which flowers I was originally trying to photograph.  If you guessed ‘these two big ones in the middle, the most blurry ones’, congratulations, we have a winner.

And it’s not me.

I like how the ‘HARDENED’ is all covered in rust.

I helped paint that door when I was, what, 10?  Looks like it was the last time anyone’s ever painted it.

And we end this post with a sad equine that’s not ours.

(This post was originally published on my old blog on 12 October 2011.)


Written by Alexandra

6 December 2012 at 5:43 pm

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