Greetings, former children:
I really miss my childhood home, which we left in 1960. Dad sold it for some 12,000 dollars; it recently sold for somewhere under 1.5 million. It's only a tiny bungalow but in a prosperous Bay Area town, not too far from San Francisco, California.
The art and literature that are so important to me -- and for many others of us -- got their start in my heart and mind here in the California mountains. The reason I'm posting an interior shot of my house (found it online, totally remodeled and staged) is because it was the back porch and my bedroom.
Outside the window you'll see a eucalyptus tree (HEY, SMIDDY!) and mountain range. Both were my early inspiration toward the artistic depiction of trees and mountains on canvas, with oil paints. Even as a tiny guy, I was fascinated by trees and mountains. I just stared and stared out the window, wondering about the houses and people on that mountain . . . I was sick for a while in 3rd grade, and I wrote a letter to my classmates about my observations. Weird kid.
Well, this is where I got my start.
Do you have a similar tale to tell?