October at the Sweet Little House

Delmas and I, proud grandparents of the Sweet Little House, Amtracked from Lynchburg to Old Saybrook in this “season of mist and mellow fruitfulness” (there will be a quiz at the end!) for our first visit to this post graduate idyll of Carrie and Pete.

And we arrived in a blaze of autumnal glory, leaves afire with colors, sun shining, “And still more late flowers for the bees/Until they think warm days will never end.”

And there, there it was!  The very yard  in which Peter turned to Carrie a year ago this month and said, “I think we’re home.”

And he was right, of course, they were home in the perfect spot to turn an old, well used home into their own brand of eclectic beauty.

Living Room with Pere

For the Sweet Little House sits in the charming confluence of coastal Connecticut where the marshes and rivers meet Long Island Sound.

Where “a world of marsh that borders a world of sea” vies with those famous marshes of glynn.

Where surely it is not a sin to assume this small blue flower on the edge of the dunes could be that fringed gentian, “blossom bright with autumn dew” that so reflects the sky!

Or assume this rag of seaweed is not a portend of the magic of home.

And from the salt waters of the Sound to the sweet waters of the inland lakes, even more proof that this Clinton is magic.

Autumn among boulders and ferns, sassafras and sugar maples, “…fickle, freckled (who knows how?)/With swift, slow, sweet, sour; adazzle, dim…

And in all this glory, sits the Sweet Little House, well loved by its parents and well managed by the queen cat, Oreo, who rules the yard, the house and the hearts of all!

So we came, and loved, and ate (lots of lobster rolls!), and with our “joys and our toys/came home from the fair,” content in our knowledge that Carrie and Peter have that Sweet Little House in great shape!

Now content to hear the swan sing and the “gathering swallows twitter in the skies”…
...thank you, Carrie and Pete!

Adieu, Sally and Delmas