I stepped off the van and the first sight I saw was what Georgia painted, Winter Road. The tour guide tried to keep us together but sometimes it was difficult. It was easy to see why O'Keeffe loved this part of the country. I fell hard and fast for it, too.
Rocks. Ladders. Doors. The black door. Shadows. Bones. Music. Books (kept behind locked doors but you can see them here. How badly I wanted to see her library but I knew, in advance, that it would only remain a dream.) Organization everywhere. Space. Lots of space. Boxes. Labels. Healthy food. Herbs and spices. Plants. Flowers. Elegance. Simplicity. Earthy collections. Eames chairs. Record players. Sears appliances. White. Brown. More rocks. Hundreds, maybe thousands, of rocks. Light. Land as far as you can see. Different shades of green and brown. Her walking stick (Tiny Tim style leaning against the wall.)
I would swear to you that it felt like she was going to walk through the door any moment and ask what we were doing traipsing through her home.
I can't wait to go back.
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