Katherine Nicolai

But in the same way you can look into a person's eyes and fall in love at first sight, something about the house called out to me.

And after that first timid step onto the drive, the first cautious cutting of a lilac stem, I came back many times,

Not just to gather flowers, but to check on the house.

I wanted to see it in different seasons.

To watch the leaves fall from its ancient poplar trees.

In winter, I wanted to see how the snow lay on the roof.

Once, after a heavy rain, I came to see if the creek had risen over its banks.

Then, a couple lilac seasons back,

I was out with my basket when I finally bumped into someone.

A kind, older woman with her hair tied in a scarf and the top down on her car.

Red-faced, I owned up to my thievery and apologized.

But she insisted it made her happy to know the blooms weren't going to waste.

She'd inherited the old place and couldn't use it herself.

Did I know of anyone?

who might be interested in buying.

I smiled as I thought about that day now.

It had been a long road, but the house had come back to life.

Renovations and repairs, fresh plaster and paint.

I stood in my garden clogs,

in the early morning outside in the yard and looked up at the window of my bedroom.