Farmhouse love

I have a thing for farm houses. I grew up running the halls, and falling down the narrow staircase, of a homestead in Newmarket, New Hampshire for my entire life. My extended family has lived in this house for 300-something years and the attic is a treasure trove. Nose around in the barn, "little barn" or "slaughter house" (another timber-framed building on the property) long enough and you're bound to find antiques the Road Show addicts would drool over. But, it's the love that fills the 4 walls that is most impressive. Love isn't always pretty, it isn't always calm and thoughtful, it isn't always easy and it isn't always recognized. It's a home of many hugs, many laughs and many tears. It's...

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