Our house has a street address, but Rob and I recently decided we wanted to give it a name.
Much has happened in our family since we moved here almost four years ago. Most importantly, three babies have come along, one of whom celebrates his first birthday today! (Happy birthday to our sweet Eli!) Already the walls here seem more full of the laughter the grands bring to us than they can hold, but the plaster and paint contain it all so nicely and I like to think that any cracks that appear are only because of the bulging those walls endure thanks to the happy spirit dwelling within.
The porch has added more rockers (Cracker Barrel gifts) and two benches (fine craftsmanship from Longleaf Woodworking). Dear husband and I sit there in the early evening to review the day and catch up. It the sun is too bright and hot, a shift to cushioned chairs on the New Orleans style patio out back is in order and we enjoy hearing the fountain gurgle as the birds chirp overhead. A warm Valentine’s Day afforded the excuse to dine alfresco by candlelight this year. The old lamp on the post outside was replaced a while back and we use the older one to hold candles at the table out there now.
A rehearsal dinner, baby showers, and birthdays have been celebrated here with family and friends gathered. Meals with friends accommodate happy and full hearts over fellowship. And the ability to comfort the tired and hurting happens here also. Lunches occur most Sundays following church as we gather around and devour the fare of the day.
This older home, built in 1950 by Dr. and Mrs. Thompson, has its charm and quirks, and I yearn to know more of its story from its beginning and then through a few more owners.
Birds and squirrels count the feeders and baths their own. A family of owls graces us most evenings with their hoot calls. The greenery tells a story of past owners’ garden favorites in the tiered beds with tucked away spots for sitting. Camellia varieties and hydrangeas take up yard space along with boxwoods, hollies, gardenias, a tea olive, magnolias, oaks, cedars, and pines. There’s even a peony on the premises. Delight! It seems only fair that our name for the place relate to a favorite plant that we are incorporating into the landscape.
My husband named it and I approved of it.
Welcome to Rosemary Hill.
Rosemary is a luscious and fragrant herb, the oils of which linger on the hands almost as long as chopped garlic or onion would, but without the offense. This particular herb is a way to mark remembrance in bouquets. As roses mark love and affection based on color, so rosemary signifies remembering of another. In our case, we cite rosemary as a standing stone of remembrance to God’s goodness and faithfulness to us as his children.
For now we have rosemary in the porch planters and a few varieties of rosemary planted around the property. All are useful for culinary enhancement and I am enjoying the stew out of them. Young grandson Quentin is even aware of the plant and how the fragrance brings me such pleasure. He’s been taking our front porch day’s end review time with us this week as his baby sister Sarah Joy spends some time mending in the hospital and he runs his fingers over the green-filled stems then sniffs letting out an excited, “Ahhhh, Mamy, smell!”
And I happily oblige the opportunity to stop and smell the rosemary. Thanks be to God for his goodness and his grace that we experience at Rosemary Hill.