farmhouse - quotes and descriptions to inspire creative writing
Inside that farmhouse Jojo's heart had been born. She had dreamed of flying to distant shores, to see the world laid out like the most beautiful of quilts. It was within those walls she had turned from girl to woman, on the oak table that she had written her sums with hair in braids. So with sadness and joy all at once she held her hand to the cool window watching for the car, her eyes resting both on the road and how her breath fogged the pane all at once.
The farmhouse had been old when Elijah was a child, and now that he stood at the full height of a man it almost swayed in the wind. Though Benjamin had painted it faithfully each summer, still the water had seeped in to soften the wood and rust the hinges. Elijah pushed open the door for the last time, hearing the creak of the wood. He smiled briefly as one might when a dear friend departs for pastures new, a tinge of sorrow in his eyes. By sundown the house would be level with the ground and the task of building anew would begin.
The farmhouse was as tired as the landscape, dreary and winter-beaten. It sat there in sombre greys amid the green that had sunken into a bleak hue. Teddy stopped, resting one hand on the gate that blocked the yard, considering what lay inside. Either way he was here for several months.
The farmhouse had once been the residence of a Lord and sat proudly on the crown of the hill. It was an enormous block of a building in every shade of grey. The facades had carvings and a prettiness no other abode had other than the mansions that were walled off a couple of miles away or so. Leon wrapped on the brassy door-knocker, the lion's head both golden and dark in the creases. As he stood waiting he took in the doorway, double wide and over tall. It the house had been built to impress then it was mission achieved.
The farmhouse had started out as a small building for the workers, yet over the years the many extensions had seen it grow into a large but awkward looking abode. The "wings" jutted out in different shades of brick - still the local clay but a markedly different hue and level of weathering.
The farmhouse was no more than rocks on the scrubby hillside to outsiders, a pile of dale grey with roof of slate. Yet to Olivia it was home and hearth, the place she had arrived to as a new bride and brought forth children into the world. It had been many a year since the sound of a child's laughter had echoed within, though with her memories and the pretty flames that ate at the wood, she felt warm. It protected her from the strong light of summer and was cozy in the winter time. Should she wish to walk in the heathers all she needed to do was to fling open the door.
The house wore the color of unfinished wood, weathered for countless years by harsh elements and baked by the hot summer sun a deep, rich copper striped with hearty gold. The wood itself cracked, warped and twisted by a shrinking grain here and there and wore the stains, at predictable intervals, of rusty nails that held it fast. That old relic of a farmhouse spoke volumes about hardships and hope, strength and vulnerability -- a rich history, determined present, and a hopeful future. It faced the world proudly and defiantly with a rusted tin roof and a sagging porch. Although no one would ever describe that old house as magnificent, its rugged, frontier charm somehow harmonized with the breathtaking scenery surrounding it.
The farmhouse hunkered low to the rocky scree. A house usually rests on the flat land, but here every inch of the good acreage had to be ploughed. So it sat there as if thrown by the wind into the hill. The outside was painted red and the roof was cedar shingle. Truth be told it was also rotting a little and there were rats that roamed freely in and out through holes. The chimney had been built too large and it let the rain in and the heat out. From the windows came drafts and the family lived in fear of a leaky roof every time a squall hit. They talked of rebuilding but who had the time? Until their sons became men the best the could do were temporary fixes and pray.