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© Joan Currie – watercolor

All houses wherein men have lived and died
Are haunted houses. Through the open doors
The harmless phantoms on their errands glide,
With feet that make no sound upon the floors.

We meet them at the doorway, on the stair,
Along the passages they come and go,
Impalpable impressions on the air,
A sense of something moving to and fro…
from Haunted Houses by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

I grew up in a neighborhood where the homes were identified, not by street numbers, but by the surname of the first owners. It didn’t matter how long the first residents had lived in the house, their surname was retained despite subsequent owners who may have lived there for much longer.

Furthermore, it seemed that whatever that state of emotion the first owners possessed, either happy or sad, the house seemed to attract the same sort of owner. I don’t know why, but when I visit a home, I can sense immediately if it is a comfortable or uncomfortable space – one where the inhabitants thrive in harmony or one where is there is upset and discord. (This is independent of color, lighting, furniture, or any other physical aspect of the house.)

I hope that when anyone enters my home they feel that they are not only entering a welcoming, happy, and comfortable place but one that is nurturing, creative, and flourishing!