I live in a 223 year old home built in 1794. It is believed to be the oldest home in my town. Unfortunately, through the years it was not kept to period as in the style of many Old New England houses, but here and there one still sees bits and pieces of its character.
Much to the chagrin of my children and curious friends it is not haunted, at least not to my knowledge.
I always tell people when I mention the age of my house, that George Washington still had five remaining years left when this house was built to give them context for the age.
It gives one pause.
What I love most about the house besides the fact that it is set back from the road a bit, quiet, solid and on .75 acres is the flora and fauna. Every spring, I am surprised by the little bequests that pop up left to me by some prior inhabitant. Random tulips, bunches of daffodils, forsythia, hyacinths, white and purple violets, forget me nots. Later comes the lilacs, peonies, irises, tiger lily, columbines. I can tell you the precise point in the season by which flowers are blooming.
I have only lived here three years come May. In that time I have planted a number of herbs, foxgloves, poppies, comfrey, borage, bayberry, elderberries and clematis. I add a little something each year.
I have old plants in my garden like pennyroyal, a range of mints, costmary, winter savory, lovage, horehound, all heal, sweet cicely and silver king wormwood. It's nice to think that someday, long after I have gone, someone will be as delighted as I am each spring.
My son noted how the stamen in these look like bumblebee legs.
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