I am an architect… Or I used to be. That’s why I have my opinions about buildings, and it turns out that the buildings I like the most are always, somehow, an extension of people I admire.
Every house has a soul, a history. This beautiful house isn’t different: it is full of big and small details, I’ve been, little by little, getting to know the house and its soul.
The original house was built in the 60’s and reformed. The big tree, standing majestically into the air, was planted back then. These days the family start to consider to cut it down because it is a threat to the house during the storms.
The quiet wooden horse belonged to Kim, and I wonder how many summers, how many children… How many dreams it carried on its back.
Nothing here is just what it seems to be, everything has a history.
Everything is a detail of a bigger picture.
And I bet there are many other stories to be told, kept secretly, quietly in objects, waiting to be harvested and shared.
My heart overflows with each demonstration of love while I am with Dao in the kitchen, listening to her stories, trying to honor the generosity of this family receiving and embracing us, making us feel at home, belonging.
While the children play in the corners of the house, creating their games, baking cinnamon rolls, reading their books, canoeing, I see new weavers weaving new chapters in the story of this house, adding on to the soul of this place.
If every house has a soul, it is also true that there is always someone to nurture this soul, there is also a keeper, a guardian. Here this guardian is Dao. She is everywhere.
There are always a number of facets in a single person. For these two weeks, Dao has been for me, a source of inspiration, grace, care and beauty.
I feel honored and blessed to be here.