A sneak peek

It has been quite awhile since I popped in to say hello.  Every free moment (when I have been in town) has been spent working on the blue cottage, soon to be my new home.  I have not done all the work myself, but actually did a substantial amount, including tiling, painting, plaster repair, and some trim work.  It has been an exhausting, but ultimately rewarding, process.

The above image shows the hobbit-like pantry, one of the most charming things about the house.  It is covered in beadboard, which I recently painted a creamy white.

Everything in the house has been covered -- walls, ceilings, and trim-- with the same delicious shade of white.  I have used twenty-three gallons so far, and that is only for the downstairs.  Most surfaces have required three or four coats to cover the previous shades of vibrant green that covered walls and the brown-painted baseboards.

The bathroom was completely re-done, with the exception of the old cast-iron tub.  I liked its curved apron and depth, so we decided to keep it.  I tiled the tub surround with 3" x 6" subway tiles, a project that took me five days from start to finish.  We installed floor-to-ceiling beadboard in the bathroom, and I am in love with the way it adds height to this room, where the ceilings are a standard 8' high.  The mirror has yet to be hung; we are still working on finishing the little things.

After removing the old drop-ceiling from the dining room, living room, and master bedroom, the ceilings soar to 10'.  I spent several days covered in dust from doing plaster repairs.  There were lots of holes in the ceiling from where the supports for the drop ceiling had been nailed to the ceiling joists.  Multiple coats of EZ Sand and lots of hand sanding did the trick.  I finished the final sanding today and painted the ceilings!  What a relief to have that part of things completed.  The new chandelier in the dining room is from Pottery Barn, as is the sisal rug rolled up and stored under the table.  I purchased a huge, cherry dining table from a local antiques shop and brought it straight over to the new house.  An old sheet protects it from all the dust and debris.

During and after shots of the living room.  The hideous drop ceiling is visible in the second photo.  There is still a pile of trim boards in the middle of the room (top), but I wanted to give all my lovely readers an update and decided to overlook the mess.  The flooring throughout is a new laminate.  Unfortunately, when we tore out the old carpeting, we discovered that the pine floors had been ruined beyond repair.  They had, at one time, been covered in linoleum, and the thick swirls of glue were still adhered to the pine floors.  This laminate was used throughout the downstairs, and I already like the way it grounds all the white space.

 A view from the living room into the master bedroom.  The wall with multi-colored boards was once a door that our handy man covered with scrap lumber.  The intent was to cover it to match the rest of the walls, but I'm not sure now.  I kind of like it's quirky charm.  What do you think?

This is a corner closet under the stairs, the one place where the original base board and pine floor still exists.  It is so sad that all this gorgeous wood work was stripped away and discarded.  I was able to salvage the original trim boards that span the opening between the living and dining rooms.  And some of the original doors remain intact.  Salvaged doors will be installed where original doors are missing.

I hope you have enjoyed this mini tour of my new house.  If all goes well this week, and I finish the remaining little things, we plan to move in over the weekend.

Stay tuned for more from my historic home.

Until next time...

Anne

My latest project

I realize I have been negligent in posting and getting around to visit my favorite blogs lately, but I have been a very busy girl!

After several weekends away from home when my dad was sick and after his death, I had fallen behind in working on this gem of a house, my latest project and newest love.

She is a lovely Victorian cottage that used to be my honey's law office.  She has been sitting vacant for a little while, recovering from a string of bad tenants and years of re-muddling.  It has been my mission to restore her to glory.  

The outside is in good shape, but the inside was a travesty! 

The curving front porch was what made my heart sing the first time I saw this place.  This is the view looking out toward the street.

This is looking eastward, where you can see one of the generous curves, leading back toward the front door.

This is the back end of the porch on the west side of the house.  A generous trumpet vine is creeping up over the ledge, and I plan to add a trellis to both support it and create a little green sanctuary.  

So, all my free time has been spent on this beauty of a house, and in a couple of months I will be moving in.  I am trading a sweet spot in the country for a sweet house in town.

Stay tuned for project updates and photos of the inside.

Until next time...

Anne

Out and about

Weekends away for family obligations (my dad's funeral, Passover) have provided opportunities to see new and wondrous sights,  both natural and man-made. 

The first of such excursions, where we stopped on a whim and spent a glorious night, was French Lick, Indiana.  The French Lick Springs Resort is a wonder from the Victorian era, which has been fully restored.  Above is the grand staircase leading down to the veranda behind the hotel.

The spring house was built at the time of the hotel (1870's) and is the focal point of the rear garden.

The spring was dubbed, "Pluto" and its waters were thought to be restorative for the body, both internally (as a laxative) and as a soothing bath.

The sulphur odor is quite strong, a dramatic contrast to luxury of the hotel and its amenities.

The front facade, with its covered staircase, had remained the same since the turn of the century.  The hotel is listed among the "Historic Hotels of America."  Our guest room was the most comfortable and lovely room I have ever stayed in.  

The opulent lobby was equally impressive!

Yesterday, while driving back home from Chicagoland, we stopped outside Monticello, lllinois, at the Robert Allerton Park, also a relic from the Victorian era.  

The park consists of a mansion, cottages, formal gardens, and pristine woodland.  The 1,500 acre grounds were donated to the University of Illinois at Urbana-Champaign and are used as a public park, conference and retreat center.

The house is gorgeous, but not overdone.  Areas for rest and play are around every corner.  I imagine Victorian ladies, dresses grazing the ground, parasols perched overhead, strolling the immense estate on fine spring days, such as the one we had while there.

The mansion, as it is known, is not open to the public, much to my dismay.  It is reported to contain an incredible collection of art and antiques.  Mr. Allerton was a parton and benefactor of the Art Institute of Chicago.

Statuary is scattered throughout the estate, both in the formal gardens

and in the middle of the woods.

Preservation is an ethic and a movement I feel very strongly about, and it does my heart good to see that such incredible relics from the past as the Allerton estate and French Lick Springs Resort are taken care of for generations to come.  

Each of these destinations is about 3 hours from my house.  I have always like the concept of being a tourist near one's own place of residence.  There is beauty everywhere, if one only knows where and how to look.  

Until next time...

Anne

Empty

Empty benches usually suggest a place of rest, a moment of repose from the busy-ness of life.  However, in looking through old photos taken during a trip to Nashville several years ago, the emptiness I see here is evocative of the fact that my dad is no longer with us.  His passing occurred while my honey and I were driving back to Nashville to assist my mom a couple of Fridays ago.  

We flew down the highway, and his spirit flew from its earthly body.

I am now back at home and back to work after a whirlwind of visits with family and friends and a lovely service to commemorate his life.  He had asked to be remembered as a person who made people laugh.  I remember him most as someone on whom I could practice my witticisms and someone who was generous.  He taught me how to plan for the future, how to be mindful with money, that family equates with constancy and reliability... and that laughter is the universal language of healing and joy.  

 I offer a toast to my father, to send him peacefully on his way to the next phase of being. 

 Until next time...

Anne

The therapeutic value of cleaning

Tonight I will make my third trip to Nashville in a week to assist my mother and be with my father in his time of dying.  His eleven-month battle with cancer is winding down.  Of all members of our family, my physical proximity to my parents is the closest, only three hours away, so it is relatively easy for me to zoom on down the interstate on short notice.  

I had gotten home yesterday after a few days of being there while my dad was transitioning from the hospital to being at home with hospice care.   

With a few quiet hours on my hands today, I decided to take on my kitchen.  It had been a little bit neglected due to periods of being gone and then home for only a short time.  There really is not much to my little 1950's kitchen.  It is only about 10' x 10', and everything about it is quite simple and clean-lined.  The best features are the windows that face both north and east, looking out over the farm fields, pond, and woods.  It gets wonderful light!

Cleaning is good therapy for me.  It gets me up and moving.  Scrubbing the walls, cabinets and floors can cause me to work up a good sweat.  In the process of cleaning, we throw out things that are no longer needed, wanted or useful, even though some of them may be difficult to part with--  a process in many ways akin to the letting go that comes with grief.  

We make things seem shiny and new, which allows us to see them in a different way.  Anything that clarifies one's perspective or challenges the way we look at things has therapeutic value.  

Tending a house prompts us to appreciate the beauty that is right in front of us.  The red bud tree across the yard has bloomed during my absence, and the countryside is greening right before my eyes.  There is so much new and renewed life bursting forth at this time of year, a sharp contrast to the waning of my dad's life.

 Taking a step back from our normal point-of-view changes how and what we see.  My usual view of the sink is from hovering over it, looking down into it.  By stepping back, I notice how the faucet and the old cabinet hardware glimmer in the early afternoon light.

In going through the process of losing someone we love, we develop a heightened awareness and appreciation of the ones we love who are still with us.  Pyewacket has missed me dearly this week, it seems.  She has not strayed very far from wherever I am at any given moment, including supervising as I mopped the kitchen floor.

While I have lost any ability to control what goes on with my dad's health, I do have the ability to control  what goes on in my own space.   Cleaning helps me to generate a sense of control in some small, but meaningful, ways.  I also rest assured and comforted that when I walk back in through my door, regardless of what happens, this kitchen will be a fresh and welcoming sight.

Until next time...

Anne

Memories and desires

Memory is the greatest traveler.

~  Edward Counsel

The warm days of spring are making me think of my recent trip to Savannah, Georgia, 

with a desire to return.   I long for carefree days where the only schedule to be followed is that dictated by my empty stomach and my need for sleep.  

It is spring break for many schools in my area and the university where my honey works.  

With deadlines looming and uncertainties pressing down upon us, we opted not to travel this week.

I guess I am feeling a little bit wistful for the sweetness of our last trip, wishing we had decided to spend a little time away.   

Perhaps a little time spent outside, deep in the woods; watching movies filmed in exotic locations;
or indulging memories of previous travels will suffice to cure these
I-should-have-gotten-out-of-town blues.

Wishing you adventure, discovery, and presence of mind,
wherever you may roam, whether near or far.
Until next time...
Anne

P.S.  I wrote this post and then received word from my mother that my dad, who has a variety of cancers, is not doing well, and my presence is needed.  So, now I am headed to Nashville and am thinking of the old adage about being careful what you wish for.

Violetta

House plants are an integral part of my decorating style and philosophy.  

African violets (saintpaulia sp) are among my favorites.  

Luminescent blooms tower over velvety green, heart-shaped leaves.  They come in a multitude of colors, but of course, my preference is for white blooms.

My African violets have never looked this good.

The difference is in the pot.  I bought this pot specifically designed for African violets last fall. These planters are nothing new, but I had been skeptical of this design and not thought it worth the extra money. 

Boy I was wrong!  

This planter has a porous inner pot and a glazed outer pot.  All you do is simply keep a supply of water in the outer pot and the inner one draws in as much water as it needs.  

It could not be any more simple.

A mulch of decorative rock keeps the moisture in.  

Flowering indoor plants satisfy my gardening needs during the cold weather months.  

Until next time...

Anne

Basking in the Sunlight

Wishing you a weekend as relaxing as this...

As the pool of sunshine moved across the bed this afternoon, 

so did Igby.

Cats are masters of the art of relaxation.

We could learn much from them.

Until next time...

Anne

The Secret Garden

via Warner Brothers




As a child, I was enamored with the book
The Secret Graden by Frances Hodgson Burnett.
It is the story of a young girl, Mary, who, after losing both of her parents, is sent to live with her reclusive uncle in a large English manor.  Mary's early years had been spent in India, where she was tended by a cadre of servants and neglected by her busy parents.  When she arrives at Misselthwaite Manor, she is essentially all alone.

via Warner Brothers


The losses Mary, experienced, as well as her loneliness and isolation, resonated with me.  Most children can relate to these emotions, even if they are only experienced for brief periods of time.  The huge backyard at my grandmother's house was my haven.  I managed to find places to set up "house" that were hidden in the low branches of monstrous pines, in the shrubbery behind the storage shed, or in the circle carved out of a thicket of blackberries.  In July, when it was berry season, this was the best spot in the whole world to be!

via Warner Brothers




There is something about secrets (at least the ones that don't hurt people) that is delicious.  We savor them, rolling them around in our minds, knowing that by possessing knowledge that others do not, we are special.  

via Warner Brothers

Mary's garden had been locked up and abandoned long ago.  When she unlocked the door and stumbled inside the ivy-covered walls, she entered another world, a world of promise and possibility.  This was a world where time stood still and losses were not permitted entry.  Neglect hadn't ruined the eden that was this incredible garden.  In a huge leap of faith, she allowed others to enter her world, and she was taught how to plant seeds and bulbs, how to weed and prune.  

via Warner Brothers

She also learned how to trust, how to allow herself to be vulnerable, and ultimately, she learned how to cry.  Letting others in on our secret can be scary.  We risk exposure of the secret and of ourselves.  We risk being teased for prizing the secret as something marvelous.  We risk betrayal and dishonesty and rejection.

via Warner Brothers


Mary and her cousin Colin both craved attention and love.  In letting Colin, and ultimately her uncle, into her life and into her heart, Mary found the connections that had been missing her entire life.  Colin, through Mary's help, made his way toward healing.  And Mary made hers toward wholeness.

Those early days of my youth spent playing outside in my own secret gardens brought me in touch with essential parts of myself.  Things that still ring true for me are the needs for light and air, as well as a space to put my mark on.  As I consider moving again, I am reminded of these necessities, as well as a need to play in the dirt on my own bit of earth, and a place nearby where I can just go out and wander about.

Wishing you peace this early spring Friday, as gardens all around are beginning to stir.
Until next time...
Anne