Life at Fairvilla

These days, Fairvilla is filled with the faithful hum of the sewing machine, the crackling fire, the giggle of a bride-to-be, the tapping of coordinating computer keys, the teachers' sighs of frustration, and the laughter of these sometime silly women who still have little girls deep down inside.

The garden grows well with all this rain. The kitchen is beautful, the washing machine is broken, home-grown fresia scents the window sill while I contemplate what tomato varieties to plant this year, the piano needs tuning but we play it anyway, and life moves on,
goes quickly on,
but questions linger.