Going, going, gone

The picture says it all.

Twelve days after I put my house on the market, we had a firm offer.

Three days later, we had a contract.

I'm awaiting the results of the buyer's inspection. Then will come the appraisal by the buyer's lender. The latter shouldn't be a problem, since a house almost identical to mine on the same block sold this summer, and we priced my house accordingly.

If all goes well, closing should be in early September.

Coincidentally, I bought the house myself exactly 33 years ago this September. I say "coincidentally," because we didn't plan the sale that way. That's just how it turned out.

Several friends have asked if I miss living in the house. I do, but I have no regrets. I miss the deck and the yard most of all. One step out of the kitchen door led me to a yard that the real estate agent called "park like" in her listing. I spent 33 years whipping what was a bare space into shape with plantings of althea, acuba, lilac, hydrangea, deutzia, mock orange and butterfly bushes, as well as exotic lilies, azaleas in a panoply of colors, and dogwood and fig trees. I planted crape myrtle trees that are now blooming in reds, pinks and lavenders.

One of the crape myrtles was only a bare stick with scraggly roots when I bought it at a grocery store 20 years ago for 99 cents. It's about 12 feet tall now. The variety is called peppermint, and the blossoms are each hot pink and white, like a peppermint candy. I'd never seen that variety before, and I haven't seen anything quite like it since.

And now, somebody else will have a chance to enjoy it all.

I'm at peace with that.