There Are Limits

Let there be no doubt this is 
a prize possession. Built in 1860
it is sturdy, almost impervious to
wear but worn well by those whose
home it was over the years, farmers
and their families, working the land
and providing food for theirs and
yours, a proud tradition. The land
now fallow, the seventy acres of
field and forest in genteel display
to hold apiaries, grow organic
root crops, and home to nostalgia,
a windmill refurbished, and a
draft horse treasured, the menagerie
completed with your rescue dogs
and cats, a full dozen withal.
Back then people worked hard
and stayed fit. The house, since
modernized and fleshed out with
plumbing, electricity, updated
with must-have appliances and a
tractor, was built to last and it has
yet moderation was the key to
its old bones, refusing now to
accept your queen-sized bed.