Suspended in Time

After over a month in Mobile, I am finally returning home to Opa, riding with Annie to keep her company as she drives with her girls to visit the Utah family. It's been a good visit for me, but I'm ready to go home to my new home in the mountains. We spent last night in Oklahoma, partaking of the gracious hospitality of Dianne and Arin Mitchell and their three children. Their home is on a quiet street that seems far apart from the rest of the world. Last night I had the good night's sleep that I needed and was anticipating, on the sofa in their living room on clean white cotton sheets, covered by two wonderfully warm and worn quilts. This was where I slept last time we made this trip, and it is like lying down in a bed - an unbelievably soft, comfortable, supporting in all the right places bed. My knees always bother me after long rides in the car, but for some reason, that sofa's cushions rise just exactly where my knees bend, giving me relief and comfort. I went immediately to sleep, and awoke refreshed. I am sitting on the ottoman right now, looking out the window onto their little front porch. I really do feel suspended in time. As I look across the quiet street I see a white house with two large dogs lying companiably on the porch. One is a black lab, the other looks from here to be maybe a bull dog of some sort. There is a garden with lots of day lilies, a bird bath, bushes. I bring my eyes closer to where I am sitting, and focus on the Mitchell yard. I love the sycamore tree that shades most of the yard, the swing suspended from it, the portable basketball goal down by the street, which bespeaks the fact that boys live here - both young and old. The porch, which is closest in my view, so close I could touch it, is a place I could sit forever, just drinking in the simple beauty of this place. There are three metal chairs, retro, the kind I remember from Florida visits to my grandparents as a child. They face the white metal glider which is where I would sit, if I lived here. Diane's potted plants add more color and fragrance and simple beauty to the setting. She has a couple of those shephard crooks plant hangers, one of which holds a pot of petunias. Down one step is a pot of hens and chickens, which I haven't seen since my childhood at my Nana's house on another quiet street in the small town of Darien, Wisconsin. This street reminds me of that wonderful place, where I have my first memories, as we lived next door to Nana in a little white house my dad built.

Dianne and Arin have decorated their home to match this gentle country feeling. There are many quilts everywhere, each with a story, from grandmothers and friends. There are found pieces such as the sturdy coffee table that looks like it could have been purchase at a flea market in Metz. The television and components are held by a wonderful piece that says "I was built with love." It is obviously put together from this and that, cream-colored rubbed and worn wood, brown doors with paint genteely cracking - showing through to other layers of paint colors harking back to other incarnations, antiquey-looking glass knobs, a top that looks to me like an old picnic table. So beautiful. There is a love seat, a comfy recliner, that wonderful sofa, beadboard and plaster walls with wainscoting, all painted in different neutral shades. There are whites and beiges everywhere. This whole little house is full of country touches. No, not touches, it is all country. Every single part of this home beckons you to come in, sit down, relax, forget your worries, for there is love here. Thanks, Dianne and Arin, for opening your home to some weary travelers. I would stay here forever if I could!