Be It Ever So Humble, There’s No Place Like Home

The old farmhouse where I grew up

Farmhouse and barn from the meadow

I have just returned from a trip to my childhood home and farm where I stayed with my 92-year-old Dad who still lives there.  I know that I am among the few 57-year-olds who can still make a statement like that.  I am very aware that each return is one of a finite number of remaining stays in the house of my childhood memories.  Two of my brothers now own the farm land and buildings, and the long-term plan is to eventually tear down the old farmhouse and build a new home on the property.

Sidewalk to the front door

View of the fields from the garden and crab apple tree

Birdhouse near the garden

View out the barn door

The old, square, wood-framed farmhouse is nothing special architecturally or design-wise.  You could definitely call it humble.  On this visit, I made sure to photograph some of its rooms, which have changed little over the decades.

“Be it ever so humble, there’s no place like home.”
– John Howard Payne

Living room

Living room window

Dining room (We actually eat in the kitchen -- the "dining" room is our T.V. room)

Farmhouse kitchen

Dad's first-floor bedroom