Part Two: HEARTHEART

You turn off the main road and drive under the tiled arch, going slowly now to make sure that you don’t miss anything.  The road turns into a slightly bumpy driveway covered with yellowing pine needles and faint trances of children’s chalk drawings.

Up ahead, framed by the perfect one-point perspective of the trees, you see the main building.  You drive toward it, passing more sculptures hidden among the nature.  Then, for the first time, you see Miranda’s Hearth.

It’s a three story log cabin covered with deep green ivy that makes the entire building look like it has just emerged from the woods.  The windows are tall and their frames are painted a deep, warm red that matches the autumn leaves.  A porch wraps around the building like a skirt, disappearing into the back.

When you get out, you can feel the leaves turning color and smell the crispness of autumn.  You haul out your suitcase and lug it towards the building, drinking in the details.  More crocheted baubles hand from the roof of the porch and mismatched rocking chairs are strewn amidst equally distinct coffee tables.  A few sport half burned candles sitting in pools of their own wax.

An old dog comes up to sniff you as you reach the front of the porch, waving its tail happily and shoving its wet nose in all the most inconvenient places.  It accompanies you up the front steps before it gets distracted by the sight of its bed by the door.  The sunlight highlights the stained glass doors, framed by old, heavy wood and plain, broze doorknobs, the right one shiny from use.  A sign over the door reads, “HEARTHEART” and you look up at it for a moment, puzzling out the words, before putting your bag down with a happy sigh.