For no real reason, last night I made a virtual, stealthy visit back to Deer Tick Manor. As best I could discern, the place is not currently on the market, which I was happy to see.
According to both Zillow and Realtor.com, Deer Tick has appreciated in value substantially since 2022, when I sold it “as is” to a young couple. One must take such valuations with a very large grain of salt, quite naturally, but even if the current estimates being displayed on the inter-Google are overly generous and optimistic, my young purchasers got good value and a better place to call home.
In the bargain, I made a little money, too. A win-win proposition for all.
Not surprisingly, undertaking my unannounced investigation made me feel nostalgic for our former getaway place. The realtors’ posted photos show that the current owners had essentially maintained the status quo. Furthermore, assuming these photos are up to date, the current owners appeared to be making good use of the furnishings and other items I left behind when I sold them the property.
Even better, the grounds looked just as welcoming as Lee had made them through her hard work and effort over nearly two decades tending to Deer Tick Manor. I smile.
Indeed, based on my memories of the property, June was always one of the best months to visit Deer Tick. To my eye, the photographs of “Totie Fields,” the pet name we gave to the large walled garden Lee designed, installed, and lovingly nurtured, showed it appearing well-maintained and in full bloom. I observed that the ornamental shade trees we planted over time in front of the house, near the road, were full and healthy. Further, they were markedly taller than when I last saw them. It warmed my heart to see that the current owners had wisely left Lee’s garden handiwork largely intact and undisturbed.
Even stronger than any sense of nostalgia for the place, certain memories, snippets, really, of the years at Deer Tick, flashed through my mind. No mere memories either; once again, I can almost feel the cool, gentle breeze stirring the leaves, causing them to rustle softly, and I glimpse birds of all colors and sizes, living hidden in the trees, as they flit and dart from tree to tree. My ears fill up with their varied calls and bird songs. And the smell of freshly mowed grass, sparkling with dew in the morning sun, fills my nostrils. Once more, I am trying in vain to count the innumerable fireflies that rise from the grasses, plants, and trees at dusk. Eventually, they comprise thousands of tiny strobe lights flashing in the darkness to the very treetops, desperately seeking out their mates.
The sight is overwhelming. I feel giddy having the privilege to witness the spectacle of Nature’s light show, suddenly unfolding before my eyes, under a canopy of stars on a moonless night.
Of course, underneath the memories and sense impressions, she is there.
