On one of my walks in Blowing Rock, North Carolina, I almost walked right past this old stone house. Then something caught my eye.
“Wait, I have to get a picture of this!”
My husband is used to these moments by now. In fact, he has even started keeping an eye out for things I might find interesting.
What stopped me wasn't really the house itself. It was the ivy, hanging like curtains and framing the old stone. There is something about the different layers of nature and age that I am drawn to. The softness of the leaves against the rough stone, the weathered wood, the shadows. These are textures I can almost feel just by looking at them.
Maybe that's why I stop and take the picture. It feels almost as though I'm taking a tiny piece of history home with me, something I noticed and can now keep.