The window open - A morning

The sunlight streams through strong and bright as early as 7 in the morning. And if that is not enough to bring you back from worlds ethereal back into this mundane one, the Kookabarras must add their chorus too.

"Good morning, Kookabarra" I mutter, staring out at the not-so-Secret-Garden of Australia. Ivy does not cover the walls for one, and neither is the place entirely overgrown. Just barely, in fact. But that's what you get with a large backyard and a family neither of whose thumbs are properly green. The trees are nice, though. We have three large ones and a few other young-ish saplings. They were probably planted by a past owner of this place. Just not sure which past owner. I suppose it doesn't matter. What matters is the trees stand now, invitingly to an assortment of birds - Kookabarra being one of them, extending shade and welcome to future owners. Or perhaps just giving them more to do, in terms of tidying up the garden. Ah well.

There can be no ownership without effort, though, I suppose. Or so my mom says. A house is just a house and not really a home if you don't live in it. Invest some time, emotions, sweat, and in some cases, money in the place. I suppose my first investment is liking the house. But it's really the least I can have - a home - considering I have to rebuild the rest. Ah well.

To work, then, to work. (a pun, some may get and some may not. ;p)