Last night around 9pm I had a sweet little moment after putting the kids to bed where I sat on the porch and appreciated the incredible view and solitude this place has to offer. The view, always inspiring, was made particularly appreciable by the color and shape of the clouds.
Just as I was deep in appreciation, I noticed a couple of cars drive by the house that were obviously not from around here (the California plates generally give them away). Now, the road I live on accesses an area in the Hole that has become very desirable, and there are quite a few “second homes” in the area. (It’s always funny to hear the second homeowners or the newly transplanted talk about how long they’ve been coming here, but that’s a whole other topic, and frankly, it doesn’t matter.)
I’ve seen a lot of sunsets—and sunrises for that matter—from this porch and have developed an intimacy with evening in that spot throughout the seasons. But it got me thinking about the familiarity one gets with a place after many years of watching the seasons go by, and I wondered about those second homeowners and their memories of passing seasons in the Hole. Do they only remember the prime summer or winter experiences, or do they develop an appreciation for the cold, wet and snowy times as well? Or do they simply head back to California, Texas or wherever when the Hole is not as nice a place to be? Of course, some do. And do they have a similar appreciation for the view from their porch in the place they call home? One can only hope they do, for without the appreciation of a place you call home—and that is special—what’s the point?