I RECENTLY WROTE of our 14th wedding anniversary in a post titled The Age of Dust. But another annual milestone passed about the same time, the Hacienda’s 13th birthday.
Call me old-fashioned.
We got married in April of 2002. Within four months, we had purchased the double lot in an outlying, hardscrabble neighborhood of our mountaintop town, and begun construction based on plans we drew on graph paper.
The work, done by three craftsmen and a helper, lasted nine months. I shot scads of photos, all of which were lost when my computer hard drive committed suicide. Dang!
Thirteen years now, and the place has developed a patina.
And so have I. And that reminds me of another thing I’m proud of, in addition to my wife and home:
I haven’t dropped dead yet.