The laundry hanging on the line points the wind in the right direction, in sync with the flag quivering on top of the pole. The deck surrounding the cottage is stained a dark brown, from years of weathering and millions of muddy footprints. An old hammock swing hangs next to the front door, just begging to be sat in. Buckets, baskets and window boxes holding flowers bursting with color are everywhere to be seen, from the front steps to the picnic table. The shouts of laughter from each room can be heard from the front porch, along with the occasional water fight in the kitchen.
Kids fly by, running from the squirt guns and threats of being thrown in the river.
The inside is the same as it has been for the past one hundred years, with a few comforts added along the years. From the straw carpets and navy bunks to the old banister and claw legged tub, everything seems like it would fit into any time period. Wind blows right through the walls it seems, and in heavy storms you can actually feel the house swaying. During the day, sun lights up the whole place and every corner seems to glow with warmth. The frequent aroma of cookies or some other treat floats around the whole cottage, and somehow always manages to call everyone to the kitchen.