I have recently moved into a new house.
The area is a lot different than where I lived before. For starters, there’s a lake, well, one big lake and one little lake to be exact. Instead of having a few enormous, hundreds of years old, live oaks, there’s a ton of smaller oaks. Unfortunately, most of the them aren’t in great shape.
The neighbors are nice. I haven’t met very many of them yet, though.
In the right side of the backyard, rests a live oak. It is pretty big, but still not quite as big as the ones at my old home. The lower branches are great for holding wind chimes.
Located underneath some windows, is a flower bed. It originally had less rocks, but the landscaper had to add more due to the bed falling apart during a heavy rainstorm.
For the flower bed, my mom and I planted violas, pansies, daffodils, some other plant I don’t remember the name of, and ornamental kale (it came with some pansies).
Overall, I like living here. I don’t miss where I use to live despite it being my childhood home. But at the same time, I’m not ready to call this place home. Not yet, anyway.