Love Letters To A Frank Lloyd Wright House

sepvaecryewinhseirde. aI nsdawoutht ifsohr othuesier ngeaemdesd. hAenldp,gbaumteIshtahdeynohaide, athe usual baseball, football, croquet, lacrosse, the restoration would be unending and there would be no time for me to do my oil painting and pursuing my goal to teach. I did not see I would be carrying groceries up the made up, like improvising a frisbee golf course around the yard and across the gardens. Building a scarecrow or snowman, looking like Frank Lloyd Wright, was great fun. Walking on the narrow ledge of the water table surrounding the house required a daring leap near the front door. Skiing off the garage roof, sliding down or jumping up on the wide stairs, pull-ups on the beams in the living room… all became challenges and fun. The boys pulled each other on skis behind a motorcycle on the invented many a new game. Having bought the house was like getting married and wanting the marriage to be a success. When it is not, one keeps hoping, waiting for things to get better; one hangs in there, faces the reality, tries again and again, taking the good with the bad, while making allowances for the shortcomings (also one’s own) and praising the blessings. There were so many, thanks to this Wright house as well as the people that crossed my path. stairs, with a sore spine already misaligned. To get to and from the car in the garage in winter meant a slippery walk. I saw there was a very long driveway to shovel. Boys can do that.

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