Small Stone: Ceilings
When we were looking for a house 11 years ago, what we really wanted was a yard for dogs. When we found the right yard, luckily there were other things we liked about the house that came with it.
It was built in 1963. The layout reminded me of the house I grew up in. There was a 40+ year old Cottonwood tree in the front yard. We didn’t realize it at the time, but there were oak hardwood floors. It was close to Lee Martinez park, hiking, the edge of town, Old Town, and CSU. It was affordable and just big enough for two teachers to live in, for a philosopher and a writer and two dogs.
It also has these amazing patterned plaster ceilings. Last night, I looked up and remembered them. A few are now cracked in places, probably from the Cottonwood roots shifting the house and the natural settling that happens over time (to all of us).
As the sun moves throughout the day, the patterns change, deepening and shifting with shadow and light. Sometimes, I sit and stare at it, settling in to the infinite stillness and movement of the pattern–each ceiling was composed by hand and each room has a different design.
What do you see when you look up?