"It was a cold wintry day when I brought my children to live in rural West Virginia. The farmhouse was one hundred years old, there was already snow on the ground, and the heat was sparse-—as was the insulation. The floors weren’t even, either. My then-twelve-year-old son walked in the door and said, “You’ve brought us to this slanted little house to die." Keep reading our story....
ruby55 says:
I love columbines. That’s another thing besides our jack-in-the-pulpit that my brother-in-law tore out of our garden as a weed. He promised to replace them. Hah…
On June 16, 2006 at 9:19 pm
ruby55 says:
I don’t know if it’s possible but would you mind sending me a picture of the columbines? I’ve been lusting after them ever since you first showed the picture.
On July 14, 2006 at 9:51 pm