Assortment

Four Men & A Girl

photo source

 

 

photo source

One can have it all, right? One little house, that is. One little house can be masculine and feminine at the same time - a satisfying reflection of the four men and one girl who live there, right?

Oh, I think so.

This little house of ours will have rough, gray-weathered barnwood (for open kitchen shelves!), and it will also have vintage brass & lucite lamps (on the sofa table). 

There will be antlers and fur, guns, silver candlesticks, and a hand-knit throw. 

There will be wrought iron and painted wood, linen blinds and velvet pillows (I've had a piece of the most beautiful chocolate-brown vintage velvet for a while now) 

There will be nature study collections, artworks-in-progress, and a bit of floral, too. 

There will be leather and lace, and of course I can't get old brass and ball fringe out of my head.

Anything  else?

Well, let's see...  marbles, Lego, board games, playing cards, books, dry flies, footballs, muddy shoes and balled-up socks...and hopefully, one day soon, a golden retriever named Nellie (we don't think she even exists yet, but we talk about her as though she does). 

Wait.

That would make four men and two girls!

C'mon, Nellie!

 

 

 

Painted Plank Floors

There are some things that just get tricky. Like painting a wood plank floor* when you have  a knee that decides to rebel, refuses to bend, and therefore requires you to stick your leg out at 2:00 as you scooch yourself on your sitter back and forth across the floor, painting as you go. 

Tricky. 

S-l-o-w and tricky.

But, no matter, because you're liking very much this plank floor made from ripped plywood, which was nailed down with intentional cracks between the boards. It's imperfect and old-housey, which is exactly right. It's in the boy loft, which is exactly right, too. It brings some brightness to the natural pine walls and ceiling, and if when it gets dinged, it'll just get a paint-over.  

Hopefully by then, that knee will have decided to behave. 

 

 

 *Floor Details: We used 3/8" plywood, ripped to 4" planks. The planks are in a random pattern of varying lengths. They were attached to the subfloor using flooring adhesive and a 1-1/2" brad nailer. Quarters were used as spacers to achieve the cracks between the boards. The planks were then sanded, vacuumed, tack-cloth-wiped, and given three coats of Sherwin Williams Porch & Floor paint, in a custom color, which reads white in the photo, but is actually a light gray. 

 

 

His Tree

A few months ago, a state-wide Arbor Day poster contest packet came in the mail. Our boy who fell into the grade category knew right away that he was going to toss his hat into the ring and see what happened.

He took this contest very seriously, pouring over books, researching tree paintings, doing several studies using different media, getting imput and assistance from our artist friend, then, he took a deep breath and gave it his best shot. He was proud of the work he sent off, which, in the end, was inspired by a Georgia O'keefe painting and an illustration from the book, The Owl Who Was Afraid of the Dark.

Then, he waited.

And waited.  

He checked the Project Learning Tree website daily after the deadline came and went, hoping to see the contest winner announcement. 

Nothing. 

Days passed.

Still, nothing. 

Then, about three weeks later, a phone call came from Laramie. It was the state-wide poster contest coordinator, and she wanted to speak with our boy! His eyes popped and sparkled when he heard that his painting had come in second place out of 500 entries! 

She said a ceremony would be arranged in our town in celebration of his win, with our local Forestry Division personnel and our mayor attending, and that a tree would be planted in our town park in his honor!

Wow. Really?

As you can imagine, our house exploded with shrieks, hugs, high-fives, and the kind of grinning that makes your cheeks ache. This was our boy!

 

So, on a sunny May 17th, a group gathered at the town park where our ten-year-old guy was presented with his framed poster, a plaque, a certificate, money, and his very own burr oak, which he helped plant near the historic bell tower. He gave a speech. We nearly cried. The newspaper reporter snapped his picture. People smiled. 

 

Then someone said, "You know, the cool thing will be when his kids get to climb in his tree."

Oh, my. Yes!

 

 

Wishing you the loveliest of weekends, friends!

 

Nurturing

Does it get more  precious than this? Gracious. This most adorable foal lives just down the road, much to my delight. The other day, I watched as he would snuggle in and nurse for a while, then pull away and vigorously nod his head - fully agreeing that that was some good milk right there.

There's something about a mama nurturing her baby, isn't there?

First it's by holding the little one close and offering the warm milk we provide, but then, (in a blink they're 12, 10, and 8) it's by walking to the river with the three of them, sitting there watching and cheering as they skip rocks. It's in closely examining and commenting on every cool rock that makes the cut for the home collection. It's by picking more rhubarb from a neglected patch down the road, just minutes before dinner, chopping it up and tossing it into the oven with some sugar and a crisp topping, then pulling it out, warm and bubbling, to serve for dessert with some ice cream on top. It's by telling them a story when you turn out the lights at night, a story about when you were a little girl, just like they asked.

It's by orchestrating an intentional lull into the fervently busy cabin-finishing process. Just to look at them. To listen to them. To love them.  

With Gratitude

My goodness, you should hear the birds this morning. A rooster is crowing somewhere out there, too. The sky in the east is getting pink. And the night has filled the cabin with fresh, cool air.

I'm seeing, hearing, and feeling all this from inside our new little house! I know. So excited about that. Last night was the first night spent here, (yes, we celebrated  with a lasagna dinner [thank you, Stouffers] and strawberry-rhubarb pie!) and although things are in a general state of disarray, there is so much potential for lovely, I can hardly stand it. Soon the paint brushes and ladders will be put away (could this really be true?) and it will be on to placing the furniture, hanging art, laying area rugs, setting dishes on the open kitchen shelves, and showing you photos of it all (grin!).

But, in all the anticipation and looking ahead, I can't help but look back a bit, too, and know that the journey here has been nothing short of miraculous. Choices for the long-term, much sacrifice, and a vision that would not be deterred joined with deep provision from the One who knows us and loves us well. You can imagine why gratitude has been the hallmark of our recent days. Oh, this life. It isn't perfect, is it? But it is very, very real. Beautifully real. And I'm not sure you can get more perfect than that.  

 

Wishing you a lovely Monday, friends!

 

Carmella

 

 

Rhubarb & Raspberries

The tang of rhubarb. Mmm. Makes my mouth water. A grandma lady down the road called and said the rhubarb was ready anytime I could come pick some.

Yes, indeed, I'll be over soon, I said.

She gave all I could carry, with the promise that I could come back for a second harvest in about a week.

I washed and chopped the stalks of pink and green and quickly decided that those were two perfect colors  jumbled together in that chopped up heap. It smelled tangy-tart. It meant spring. It meant rhubarb coffee cake, rhubarb muffins, and a strawberry-rhubarb pie, which is slated for the celebration of the first night spent in our new little house. It's coming right up, that first night.  

We can't wait!

And? As of last evening, I get to figure out where I'll be planting some raspberry bushes given to me by another grandma lady who lives down a different road. 

Oh, these grandmas and their thoughtful gifts! 

 

 

 

Ceiling to Floor

It's funny to us that when we call this little house the 'Cabin', most people think it's made from logs. Umm. No. No, logs here! We call it the Cabin because it's small and relaxed and cozy. It has board & batten siding, a tin roof, and pine plank walls and ceilings, which, I'm happy to report, are now a lovely shade of white (Sherwin Williams Pure White, satin). Remember that dormer before? It has a completely different look, now, wouldn't you say? We, to a man (boy?) love how it's turned out. It feels old, yet open and bright.  

 

And, as of yesterday, we have a completed plank floor (Trafficmaster Allure, Catskill Pine) throughout the main level, to go with our freshly-painted walls! Oh, my! We had to sit for a while and just look at it when it was finished. So lovely! And, yes,  the finished floor, the most beautiful maiden hair fern, plus the candy I got from three boys, easily put the day into the Top 10 Mother's Days, ever!

 

Happy Monday, friends! Wishing you a great week's beginning...

 

Carmella

 

Dance

(our little house, the night of the recent mega moon)

We're learning to dance this life. You can only plan and lead to a certain degree, then you must follow, twirl, side-step, dip, dance. 

Dance.

And when you realize that this is okay, and that it's part of it all, then the little bits and bobs that bite and bump are nothing to worry about, really.

Just dance in the slightly out-of-controlled-ness of it all. Don't fret about the forty mile round-trip at 2:00 a.m. for medicine for the sick one. Slide easily into freshen-all-the-laundry-because-the Man-may-be-leaving-tomorrow  mode, then, in early evening slide right back out again, because he's not leaving after all (though it's good to know that the laundry is done and the bag is packed for when he does head north).  

The rest of the flooring should be arriving in two days, but if it doesn't, just dance. (And maybe host a yard sale, instead?)

Ah, this life. It makes me tired. It makes me happy.

It makes me dance.

 

 

 

All Good

There is a clothes line, and sheets were hanging from it for all of the afternoon. The perfume of fresh air and springtime wrapped the bed for worn-tired bodies come nightfall. Nothing like it. Nothing like the feeling, either, of cold and hot water running from your taps, the taps that sit atop the pedestal sink that is now installed in the bathroom, the bathroom that also has flooring and a toilet that flushes, too. Good, good stuff, I tell you!

Good, too, are friends, lined up like a pearls on a string, who bring dinner every night for one whole week! My goodness. And? That one amazing friend who brings whatever you might need from town (over and over again), who takes three boys home to play, and who accepts texts for caffineated coffee in late afternoon. Soon, there it comes, hot, with sugar just right and yummy home-made vanilla creamer stirred in. It lifts the eyelids just enough for a few more hours of painting.

Mixed in with all this busy-ness of finishing this little house, is a film project (which has required the research and aquisition of explosives [don't worry, it's baby power and party poppers]), insect studies, leatherwork, the flu (thus the freshly-washed bedding you see up there, soda crackers, and ginger ale), poetry, art (we're very excited about our resident artist who just won second place in a state-wide Arbor Day poster contest!), football (always), and , whew!, it's busy.

But good. So very good.

 

Happy Monday, friends!

 

 

 

Creek, Power!, Paint, Sir, Math

 

:: There are trees. Tall cottonwoods on the south and west sides of our little house, right there along the creek, the creek that I can hear through my open kitchen window.

:: A thin, wiry man with a slow, southern drawl and pointy cowboy boots came from the electric company to work his magic yesterday. When he left, the lights turned on! An Edisonesque feeling swept over me.

:: I have paint on my fingers at this very moment. And paint in my hair. I can’t imagine my life without it.

:: Two boys made a bet. The oldest and the youngest. It was over which side of the bed Calvin sleeps on, and which side Hobbes sleeps on. Important stuff. It was decided by the two that the winner of the bet would get to be called ‘Sir’ by the loser for one week. The youngest boy won. This is majorly newsworthy stuff, People, considering how hard that boy tries to best his oldest brother in something, but usually comes up short. But… um… People? Apparently, being called Sir (every five minutes) by your oldest brother isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. Just ask the youngest boy.

:: I’m wondering. Wondering because I woke up this morning with this thought: C=mc². I've come to the conclusion that this can only mean one thing:

a) I’m smarter than I realize

b) I’m dumber than I realize

c) Too many paint fumes

d) All of the above

 

~Carmella~