It had been a long, hot day when Ethan got back into the house. This was to be expected – after all summer in Queensland is typically on the wrong side of 35 degrees for comfort. He brushed the dirt off his boots and took them off and placed them on the patio. The patio was well weathered, in desperate need of a coat of paint, but had that country charm that is so often associated with older houses of its generation.
“I’ll add paint the patio to the list” Ethan murmured to himself as he ran his rough hands down the grey, splintering column next to his boots. “And probably a good sanding too.”
Looking out across the front paddock that stretched to the main road at the end of the long driveway, he could just stand there and smile. It had been a good season so far with plenty of rain and corn was over head height with a good chance of getting a decent yield for once. Turning towards the front door his nose was the first thing to turn off from the day – alerted by a smell of fresh bread drifting out of the kitchen. Ethan walked down the hall, his mismatched sock covered feet making little noise on the polished hardwood floors. Halfway down the hall, walking past dozens of photos hanging on the wooden walls put there by three generations, Ethan turned the corner into the study, or as Emma called it – her “Sanctuary”.