The other night Sweet Husband and I were out for a walk, when I joked that our little house needed a name. Every house needs a name, right? I mean, "Tara", "Ingleside", "Orchard Slope", "The Burrow", "Bag End"--really, all the good stuff happens in houses that are loved enough to be named. (Bonus points if anyone can name the stories all of those houses were in, by the way.)
As we were brainstorming, we were trying to think of some sort of architectural or natural feature that makes our house unique. We weren't coming up with anything, when Sweet Husband said something along the lines of, "The only thing we have are hostas."
And that we do. The former owners of our house loved hostas. I am not quite as fond of them perhaps, but I have to admit they work quite nicely in the shady parts of our yard.
So I started playing, "House of Hostas....Maison de la Hosta....Chez Hosta....Casa del Hosta.....Hacienda del Hosta....wait, maybe that's it....."
And I think it just might be, because--like it or not--it's stuck in my head now to the point that it would take something way catchier to get rid of it. Henceforth, there you have it: The Hacienda del Hosta.
