Matt Greene

15 Ash Street. 

White clapboard siding (long overdue for both sanding and repainting) wraps an unremarkable two-story colonial sitting on a desiccated postage stamp of land. We would struggle to consider the combination of sod, roots, and dusty loam a ‘lawn,’ but are prepared to allow such a definition in the interests of efficiency.

This is just another house on Ash Street. In the Cut. In Devon. It would be easy to view this area through an unfocused, wide lens. We are meant to; meant to allow our eyes to take in the picture as a whole, so that this building is just one of many.

Let’s not be so hasty, though. We have a little time, after all. This is why we’re here.

This house stands out from its neighbors in several subtle ways. None of these houses (most of them being at least two hundred years old) are strict studies in right angles or parallel lines. Almost all of them show signs of the addition, subtraction, or alteration one would expect for old New England homes. Especially those so thoroughly occupied and lived in. Times, houses, and needs change with the lives and stories they contain. It is standard practice for homes to evolve as they age, adapted for growing families and unforeseen circumstances.

15 Ash shows no apparent evidence of renovation. It stands, minus the relentless effects of time and weather, as we are to imagine it must have when it was first built. If we were taking a realtor-guided tour of the exterior, the first thing they would likely mention is the enigmatic ‘good bones’ one mentions when trying to draw focus from the siding, trim, and roofing. And they would be right. The home stands straight and true, despite its age. Too much so, we realize upon closer inspection.

This house is off. It feels like a whispered secret shaped like an old farmhouse. It is subtly wrong in all the ways that it is meant to look right. It is sudden shadow on your shoulders where sun once sat.

This is the home of Edward Thomas, and he will soon be returning.