My father transacted his vague business for decades, then fortune
found, he retired to Lavasan, where he bought a villa.
The property was wooded and slopped to the river bank.
There was a lovely rose garden surrounded by hemlock hedge.
The house wasn’t large and it was in poor repair;
the fields had been neglected for years, the fences were
down, and the outbuildings required immediate attention by a contractor.
But the expansive view of the Jairood River was majestic.
Within a year the house was put in proper order.
Relatives would soon spend summers at the villa in Lavasan.
Paraphrases from the biography FDR by Jean Edward Smith.