There's so much I could say about this lovely little house. Like how charming it is, even from the road. Like how I'd pay good money to sleep here on a rainy day just for the sounds of the water hitting the roof. Or like how it appears to be a combination of two local architectural styles: a farmhouse with a porch and a missing top half or a one-story dwelling that in later years grew columns and a front porch.
Please note: Chesapeake Bay Woman's expertise in architecture extends from here to nowhere and back, with a side trip down a path called Oh No She Didn't Just Pretend to Know One Hoot About Local Architecture, Did She?
No, thankfully, what I'm trying to say here today has nothing to do with architecture. It has to do with the fact that I drive by a million places like this each day--adorable homes, stoic old structures, vintage tractors or cars, lovely landscapes or beautiful yards--that I would love to walk up to, photograph, and write about. In the ideal world, the owner(s) would
If you or anyone you know would like to have a structure or a vista photographed, please e-mail me at ChesapeakeBayWoman@gmail.com. If you or anyone you know have anything to do with the lovely little house above, please know that I found it charming and hope you don't mind me taking a few pictures from the road.
No matter what, though, I promise never to talk about architecture again.
Does anyone out there have memories that include rain hitting a metal roof?
p.s. Metal is a non-specific, non-architecturally correct term which includes tin, copper and/or any other roof-like material which would cause a rain drop to create a charming sound upon contact. This same material, used in a plate buried somewhere in Chesapeake Bay Woman's head, prevents any and all information from being retrieved from her memory bank but does not prevent her from attempting to talk about things which she knows nothing about. Unfortunately.