Once

Once there was a little brown house.  A comfortable, modest, little brown house.  It had a nice little porch on its front.

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Well, it use to have a nice little porch on its front.  The family would sit on the porch and watch the world go by.  Children would watch the trains as they sped down the tracks.  Visitors would come through its front door.

Then, an angelic contractor came and transformed the little house.

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See, he even had a halo.

The little house didn’t know what was happening to it.  Windows were being removed.

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Rafter boards were being painted and nailed on it.

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New, airtight windows were installed.  Windows that would keep out the cold, winter air.

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The little brown house was beginning to feel that maybe, just maybe it wouldn’t  be the little plain Jane, little brown house any longer.

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Grandchildren came to watch the building.

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Grandchildren who have played on this porch and watched the trains go by.

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Old men stalked in the shadows.  Wait a minute, that’s David. He owns the little brown house.

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Nice, wide, wooden steps replaced the cement steps that had been there for decades.

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A big, wide deck replaced the little porch.

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Birds liked the new porch so much, they began to set up housekeeping, not knowing that their nests would have to go.  Poor birds.

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There’s a nice birdhouse you birds could live in.  In fact, there are several birdhouses to choose from.  The big house belongs to people.

While the little house was transforming, the garden was changing too.

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Rhododendrons, lilacs, redbuds and tulips were making the garden look so pretty.

And then there was light.

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Two of these.  One on each side of the front door.

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And a fan. Oh, joy, a fan.  The little house’s porch would always have a breeze if needed.

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Now the little brown house sits and awaits a new coat of stain and rocks around its posts.  It can’t wait.  One day soon it will be the pretty little house it was meant to be.  Bye.

 

 

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