When we bought our old house, it was called “Eveland” after the former owner. Somehow I didn’t think “Barbland” had quite the same ring to it, don’t you agree? And besides, I had a backup name I’d been carrying in my pocket for years. We honeymooned in Bermuda and stayed at a manor house in Hamilton called “Rosedon.” We joked to each other that if we ever had a house worthy of a name, that’s what it would be. Yeah, right. Like that would ever happen.
So when the time came, it was a snap to rename our old barn. Rosedon, it is. Had I known then, however, that its original name back in 1915 was “Dogwood,” I might have gone back to that. No matter now.
I tell you this because in front of our old house is an ancient dogwood. I like to imagine the original owners planting it.
Each year I hold my breath to see if it will survive the winter and give us a spring bloom. So far, so good.
I am happy to report that this fall the old girl has produced abundant, glorious red berries! More than I have ever seen before. I think it is a happy harbinger of another spring show.
And speaking of dogs…..we were, weren’t we? Beloved Husband has been in Asia for absolute ages. Max is growing impatient for the truck to come rumbling up the driveway:
Have a great weekend!