About That Old Room of My Own I Was Telling You About…

20130405-133004.jpgThis was the sunlit porch I was telling you about last week.

This kind of project is always bittersweet.  For the past 7 years, Dan and I have been reworking the house his grandparents built, the house where his mom grew up. We truly feel rooted to this place. As an east coast transplant, I feel fortunate to be grounded so deeply in this rich midwestern soil.  Dan’s Grandpa Frank planted vegetables in a large garden out back. Grandma Lenore planted peony, lily, roses, and lilac we still enjoy.

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Our backyard. Easter, 1971.

In some ways I hate to alter the structure in ways that erase that history, but at the same time, times have changed. We live differently than Frank and Lenore and so we are making changes. But we’ll continue to recall (to ourselves, our children, and our friends) how the space used to look and how it was used. Knowing the history of where you live is such a gift, as well as a wonderful subject for art education.

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One thought on “About That Old Room of My Own I Was Telling You About…

  1. Dear Jodi, Cousin & fellow Clarkie,
    I just desired to articulate what you already know. Affirmations of history and lineage greatly enrich our existence and I feel this all the way to the core of my being and to the greatest extent of my spirit. I thank you for sharing your current and historical experiences of the same.
    Much love, Bonnie

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