Skip to main content

Late May in D.C. Style. . .

If only I could pick up this house and transport it by magic to our little corner of the world. . .


My sister, who lives in a quiet part of Washington, D.C., takes frequent walks with her dog around their neighborhood, usually armed with a camera of some sort.  In her professional life, she develops and writes corporate training manuals for clients all over the world and occasionally delivers related talks and seminars.  But among the activities that fill her private time, she is an enthusiastic amateur photographer and frequently circulates photos of people, places, and things that she has observed here and there.  

On Sunday, she sent several shots that she snapped during her early morning stroll with the pooch.  This one, in particular, really caught my eye.  

Don't get me wrong, I like our current house (built in 1985) well enough.  The neighborhood is quiet and beautifully situated.  Almost rural in nature.  People keep to themselves, take care of their yards, and seem innocuous enough.  

But there's just no way around it.  Most suburban houses built in the last 35 years or so just don't have that much personality.  The one above, however. . .  Well, let's just say if someone snapped their fingers, transported it magically to our neck of the woods, and handed me the keys?  I'd move in tomorrow based on curb appeal alone.

-- Heinz-Ulrich

Comments

Popular Posts

Up North Style. . .

Bad Dad makes a friend. YMP and Bad Dad on the shores of Lake Michigan.  Or was that Crystal Lake? The Grand Duchess takes a selfie in her kayak. How NOT to impress the girls sunning themselves along the river. YMP and Bad Dad kayaking on the Platte River headed toward Loon Lake.   J ust back from a week in Northern Michigan in a charming and spacious house on the banks of the Betsie River outside of Thompsonville.  A largely pleasant seven days despite some challenging episodes with the Young Master, who has picked up some very questionable habits and language from his friends in the 8th Grade during the school year just ended.  But otherwise, we enjoyed ourselves and contemplated remaining for a few days longer since the house was available.   In the end, we decided to return home as planned originally since neither my wife, nor I wanted to spend the remaining days chained to our computers in Zoom meetings from our vacation destination.  I actually managed to leave the laptop and ip

Mid-June Thursday Style. . .

    A nother pretty typical variation on the theme for late spring, summer, and very early fall.  I'm a huge fan of Madras and have several such shirts in the seasonal rotation.  Lightweight, exceedingly comfortable, and even dressy when pressed and tucked in, which is the usual way of things here at Totleigh in the Wold.   Now, if I had my druthers, I'd still rather be skiing the trails in the upper half of "The Mitten" (of Michigan), in the Upper Peninsula, or Ontario.  But summers ain't so bad either, and I'd look pretty funny walking around in cross-country ski attire during June. -- Heinz-Ulrich

A Lazy Saturday at the End of June. . .

  A sleepy first half of the weekend here at Totleigh.  Warmer and quite humid ahead of an approaching cool front here in Mid-Michigan.  Perfect for yet another pair of chino shorts an a seersucker shirt -- tucked in of course -- with the usual leather deck shoes and ribbon belt.  Otherwise, not much accomplished beyond a page or so of writing and monkeying around with audio settings for an upcoming podcast episode.   However, I was not completely useless yesterday!  I made a huge fruit salad for dinner, which the Grand Duchess and I enjoyed a short while later at the table on the back porch.  The Young Master, as is his wont on Saturday evenings,  took his dinner on a tray in the TV room upstairs where he whiled away a couple of hours on Flight Simulator, flying some sort of commercial airliner to some destination across the Atlantic or Pacific.  I would have loved that sort of technology at about nine or 10 way back during the late 1970s, aka The Stone Age.  As it is, my sister and