Sorry, Charlie

The first house my husband and I purchased was an old two-story farmhouse that was over 100 years old.  Like many older homes, it had its idiosyncrasies, including a small hand dug basement that a tiny creek ran through every spring, window panes with old warped glass that made the outside world look wavy and wonderful, and lots and lots of tiny cracks and crevices for the field mice to enter. Continue reading