The view from my second floor office windows is stunning. Beyond the antique panes of glass arehanging baskets of begonias and ferns set against a canopy of live oaks, cedars and palmettos. The downward slope of the wide front porch gently directs my attention to Calhoun Street a story below . . . invariably pedestrians are paused by the old wrought iron gate attempting to capture some semblance of the beauty before them.
Within my office I'm surrounded by friends. Some are in the guise of furniture that has served me well, much of it for over forty years. The books lining the shelves are also friends; and like friends, a few have been with me for many seasons while others have come and gone, intersecting my thoughts only briefly. Pictures and mementoes fill the various nooks and crannies, in most cases the importance of each is inversely proportional to its size.
The silver bud vase before me is a new resident in these surroundings having spent the previous forty-three years at home - Becky and I received it as a wedding gift. The fresh flowers I place in it remind me of Becky; my nickname for her is "Blume," a German word meaning flower.
Dating from the 1850's the heart pine floors, wood wainscoting and fireplace have more than a little to do with the room's ambience - it's old yet productive, relaxed yet serious, evocative yet stimulating . . . gosh, it's like me; no wonder I feel so comfortable!
In His power and for His glory,