On Naming Evermore
Growing up, my parents often referred to various homes and farms by the families that lived there, either now or in the past. Our house on Main Street was called “The Musselman house,” as the Musselman family had lived there for 60 years before my parents bought it in 1984. As we would take Sunday drives in the 1970’s, they would name the places we drove past and maybe say a few words about the family. During those years, we lived on the outskirts of Apple River on “the Gribble farm” because that is who my parents rented the house from. My mother didn’t like renting and couldn’t wait to have a house of her own. They eventually did, and that house was not named for the family who had lived there most recently but rather the Street it was on — the “York Street House”.
A few weeks ago, I ordered several books from Francis Mayes. “A Place Called Home” is detailed in its descriptions of the places we call home; some of her homes have names such as Bramasole in Tuscany which literally means, “to yearn for the sun.” As a Midwesterner on the coldest day of the year, that name stayed with me like a hot marshmallow over a fire to a graham cracker. Toasty. Crisp. Meaningful.
In Jo Daviess county where the “Home Again” house is, for example, there is nearby Oak Hill Farm. Today it is a wedding venue, but once upon a time, it was merely a place where a family came to escape the hustle and bustle of the city, to get back to what’s real and lasting.
My home in Apple River doesn’t have any particular land, trees, or elevation that are worth mentioning. I have a couple of trees I need to remove, in fact, and they aren’t noteworthy whatsoever. There is a giant red oak in front of the house, but "Red Oak House" doesn’t resonate. What is a creative person to do? What could I name this wonderful old house?
Like William Faulkner, who had Rowan Oak (named for the rowan tree), Henry David Thoreau had Walden Pond (a place of philosophy and experiment), Emily Dickinson was at The Homestead, and Beatrix Potter had Hill Top. For years, I wondered what it would be like to have a place to do this important work, a creative anchor in the storm. I’m in no way saying I’m at that level, but they weren’t either, once upon a time. Maybe their homes and retreats gave them the time to do the work necessary to become better writers. It would seem so.
As I’ve considered some possibilities for my “Home Again” house, I remembered a quote I’ve always loved by Beethoven — “Ever thine, ever mine, ever ours.” So romantic, enduring, and true.
Then it came to me, softly and gently, this home will be called Evermore.
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It reflects the enduring bond we share. It speaks to the past, present, and future. It explains it all so well.
Evermore signifies a place that will endure, as it has already. From 1885 to today. And, I’m doing what I can to preserve it for the future. Evermore is also steadfast, almost like a vow.
This home is so much more than a place to live. I have a place to live in Madison, but I wouldn’t think of calling it anything other than what it is — an apartment, a means to an end, a necessary place to reside while I work in Madison. It offers me convenience and easy access to the airport and my office. Utalitarian.
As life and work are not separate for me, the newly christened Evermore is part of my writing and artistic landscape. I’m bored here sometimes, but boredom leads to something beautiful, more often than not. We need to be bored in this always-on world. It’s where creativity rises, and we become one with the creator.
When I invite people for the weekend, I want them to have the elevated experience of staying at Evermore. I believe it will help them to remember, not just say, I spent the weekend at Laura’s house in Apple River. You see the difference. I hope it’s more romantic and steadfast than pretentious, but I know I’m walking a fine line here. Having a wedding at Oak Hill Farm is one thing. Staying at Evermore is another. And we Midwesteners like to keep things on the downlow.
The name creates a sense of mystery around what’s here, too. It really is a time capsule of sorts with “treasures” from the past inside — a trunk that belonged to my Grandfather, my great-grandmother’s mirror, my beloved library of books, crayon drawings from my Godchildren’s girls, and other comforts of home.
At Evermore, the point is simply to be together. No striving or performance. Just presence. Friends come and go, some staying for the afternoon, others for the weekend. I am here. Coco is here. The coffee is on, and there’s always something good to eat. Instead of going out, we stay in. We bake and make. We read books and take naps.
It is where we celebrate both life and mourn death. Where I’ve hosted family reunions with badminton in the backyard and card games in the garage. It is also where friends and family were the afternoon my only sibling, my sister LaVonne, passed away.
It is where I write, process, and work out life and all its mysteries. It’s where I can look back in time while also pressing into the future without the distraction of entertainment, a busy office, the constant ping of notifications, and meetings.
It is a place to call home — Ever thine, ever mine, ever ours. — Evermore.
Laura Gallagher is a writer and the author of three books, including Home Again — A Restoration Story (2024). Her next book, A Legacy Built, will be published in February 2026.
