SouleMama

home alone

I cannot remember the last time I was alone in my own house. Mamas, it's a rare thing, isn't it? But yesterday, I found myself in just that situation - with all my people off a day-long adventure and me at home waiting for a meeting that was a little delayed. Home! Alone! But what's a mama to do? Why...make some new pillows, paint a bookshelf, and wander around her house marveling at the sun and the silence and the left-behind sights of those she loves. Oh, and a little bit of tea with knitting too. Naturally.

It was all rather delightful. As was wrapping my arms around them the very moment they walked back in the door.

do it yourself (myself)

It's funny the things we think we can't do, isn't it? For years, I've been sending lamps out to the workshop/barn/basement/storage spot of the moment. Those vintage ones I fall in love with while out thrifting and bring home, not entirely certain if they work or not, plus those in the house that work for a while and then...just stop. Another one added to the pile. Each time, I'd nudge Steve with a reminder of said pile of lamps, and a reminder of the darkness of this corner of a room or that one. Knowing he had never rewired a lamp before, I'd periodically send him links to tutorials I'd come across online. I think I even checked a book out of the library about it for him once. See? See how easy it is, I'd say. You can do it. Nudge, nudge.

As I was recently rearranging this graveyard of broken lamps to make room for yet another old one that suddenly stopped working, and found myself getting a little grouchy about it, I got to thinking about this whole business of rewiring those lamps. Clearly, it wasn't a priority/need/desire for my husband....but it was for me. So why, exactly, hadn't I just done it myself? Surely, I'm not afraid of learning new things...and yet this thing, this simple little thing, that fell a little bit outside of my comfort zone and skill set, I was passing off to someone else to learn. Maybe it was some deep-seeded gender thing this feminist didn't know she had going on. Maybe it's that I don't know the difference between a phillips and a regular screwdriver and thought the learning curve was too steep for me (that's not true, I really do know the difference, I promise). Maybe it was the fear of messing up electrical wires coming from a firefighter's daughter. Who knows what the reason was before then, but in that moment, they were all thrown out the window and replaced with the obvious answer: do it yourself. 

It turns out, I'm happy to report, that rewiring lamps isn't really rocket science at all. It's totally doable! Easy! Fun, even! He could do it, I could do it, you could do it. And it has me wondering, looking around to see what other possibly 'complicated, scary, outside-of-my skill set' things I could do too. Oh, the possibilities...

(Now...fabric on lampshade? That, I know.)

new year, new corners

It's amazing what the simple flip of the calendar can do for us, isn't it? Motivation for a fresh start, a reminder to refresh, incentive to set new goals. I've been riding that wonderful wave of new year energy this past week, as I tidy up not only the little bits of lingering holiday decor, but the bits and pieces I uncover along the way that no longer fit, work, or suit us. It isn't about buying new furniture or even throwing things away, it's simply rearranging, straightening, and seeing our world in a new light. Clearing the cobwebs in the corners - both figurative and sometimes, well, literal. It feels so good. Snapping photographs along the way as I do, a few little corners of ours that have caught my eye in recent days...

Cheers to a new year and new year energy....and the homes we love and live in! 

. . . . 

{Note: As is only natural, there are often lots of questions about the source of things photographed in a post like this. Don't be shy, please feel free to do so in the comments today! I'll try my best to answer your questions there.}

changing corners

Sometimes, in this silly twisty old farmhouse that we love, the only way to move things from one room to another requires that we move it out and then back in another way. Most especially a ninety inch long sofa. Yes, the sofa, my infamous and much loved sofa. It's been sitting in the barn since we moved here, waiting for my someday-it-will-come (and it will) studio above the barn, which is where it was always intended to be, even before we found it. Missing her as I was, it's only natural that she found her way back in with the most recent little corner transformation.

(A glimpse of how it was before - this little corner shortly after we moved in.)

It isn't so much that what was here wasn't working anymore, but more that I wanted to bring some change in. As we approach the winter season of inside play, there's nothing I find more encouraging of play and creativity than mixing things up a little bit - just seeing the same things in a different light, a different place, that can draw us in closer than we would have looking at it the same way any longer. In recent months I've watched and encouraged as each little piece formerly in this spot found their way somewhere else where even more play happened - the farmhouse, the dollhouse. And as I watch the dress up play explode right now in its goodness, it was clear that it could certainly take up all the space I could give it in this little nook. A place to pause, a nook to escape little fingers when playing chess, and a comfortable spot where the next costume can be fully laid out and planned.

I've tried so many ways of organizing dress up gear over the years, and have found that the best way for us is an open trunk for the bigger things with baskets or bags for smaller pieces like hats, gloves, scarves and shoes. With some found branches as a hooks, we added this new rail to the wall for organizing all of those small bits while making it easy still to clean up for little ones. 

So far, it's a hit. I'm finding two older boys hiding out up here a lot, each on an end of the sofa with a book, or a chess game in between them. I'm finding big and little ones alike digging in for just the right hat for the Mouse King. And I'm finding myself there in the morning sun in the quiet of the house, stitching for just a quick moment before anyone wakes, before the work of the day begins - a little bit of a pause. Ah, fresh corners feel so good.

studio shake up

It's been just about a year since my beginnings with Taproot magazine. As a family, we've settled into a nice rhythm and groove of just how and when I do that work, which hasn't been all that different really from when I've written a book. My (as early as I can) morning hours are spent in the studio writing and reading and talking to folks. 

My studio space though, wasn't quite reflecting the way my time is spent in here these days. (Here's how it looked before.) I needed a calmer corner for screen time, and a little more room for all that comes with that. And change feels good anyway - I love a proper room redo to keep things fresh. On that most humid day of the summer, I lugged furniture from one end of the room to the other, swept out and purged. It felt so good. And just a few hours later, found myself with something that suits much better the work I'm doing right now. There's still plenty of room for sewing and crafing to happen at a moment's notice, but ample room for all the other things I'm doing too.

{I'm guessing you might ask about: art by Lisa Congdon, Amy Karol, and Samantha Lamb. Blue shawl details here.}

My favorite addition is without a doubt the rocking chair. I'm moving towards every single room in my house having one, actually. It just feels right. And in here, reading all of the wonderful Taproot submissions that come in on the computer screen felt all kinds of wrong for a magazine and writing that is meant to be read in hand. A cozy spot in which to read is so welcome for that, a change of view for me, not to mention when a moment's break for spinning or knitting is in order. Or....when company comes to sit a spell. I do have good company.

while he was away

My (not so baby) boy is home! Ah...can you hear that exhale coming straight from this mama's heart? For as much as we love and encourage all these wonderful adventures of theirs out on their own in the world, there is a slight holding of breath that happens, at least in these (early, still) years. For a few weeks sleep was disjointed, movements strange, table setting even stranger as I was reminded that 'someone was missing'. It was, of course, balanced by smiles thinking about what he was up to, and by the arrival of those letters every few days reminding me of just how special this time away is for him. Each letter bore a remarkable resemblance to the last with a sprinkling of the word "AWESOME," followed by enough exclamation points to properly fill the page. Yes. Camp was good.

(A pillow - filled with sawdust - that Adelaide made and left on his bed the day Calvin left for camp.)

While he was away, I got to work on a little surprise project for him in the form of a little bedroom redo. Yes, yes, we haven't even been here quite two years. But his room, I must confess, was the one that got rather slapped together in a rush at the end when we were up against the calendar to move in. The original paint color he chose wasn't available at the time, and his floor never got a second coat, and oh...it was a rush job. A rush job that I noticed often, and that Calvin - who keeps the cleanest room in the house - surely noticed too. So these past weeks, it all got a proper clean - out, the paint he original chose (Yolo Water 07) on the walls, fresh paint on the floors, and other little things like newly painted drawer knobs and framed pictures of some of his recent dance performances. 

I (and he) have been puzzling for a while now over a solution to all the posters on his walls. Particularly all the 8x10 magazine covers and pull outs that go in and out and on and off the walls seemingly so often (depending on their performance in a given game? I never can tell). The holes they leave in the plaster are messy, at best. I headed to Twitter for a solution and was grateful for all the great ideas that poured in - putty! cork! magnetic paint! And then a few folks directed me to this idea of an art board, found in a little book called The Creative Family. Oh, right! That! It was just right for this little corner, and that little holes-in-the-plaster problem.

He was so excited about his new room, but we were, of course, more excited to see him. The older amongst us try to restrain ourselves at least a bit to, you know, allow him to sleep and all. But the littlest ones among us show it most truly - they haven't left his side.

Soon he heads off to his next summer adventure (I know! To be eleven!), but for right this very minute we are all soaking up being our full seven. Together at home.

 

lessons in the walls

{Photos of Uncle Greg by his brother Steve.}

We cut a hole in the side of our house this weekend. Because, you know, late January in Maine is the best time to do a project like that, right? Sure!

I wish that I were a well of neverending patience, but honestly, I had been getting a little frustrated at the pace of our progress on this little seven foot square corner of our home. Pesky details like budget and time get in the way of keeping things moving along as fast as I'd like for them to move sometimes. But finally this weekend, a very small door was replaced with lovely large doors, which means that we can now finish the floors, ceiling and trim in this little corner of our kitchen which will someday lead out to a patio. Someday. So many plans, so many plans.

We had wondered what we'd find behind those walls. Surely more layers of wallpaper, yes. A mice nest or two? Yes, we found those. And we also found this newpaper tucked into the wall. August 13, 1929. Such a wild date, yes? Just three months before so many things in this country changed, and here on the front page of the Lewiston Daily Sun is declared "Bulls in Saddle on Stock Market!". Oh, wow. 

We've been having a grand time reading this newspaper. The boys would very much like a time machine in which they could go back and buy a car for a few hundred dollars. There are far more details of the sordid affairs of the local Police Chief than I would expect for a newspaper. And the story of the car full of ladies trying to smuggle alcohol across the Maine-Canadian border is quite fabulous. My favorite page though, is the Social Chitchat, with news of all the latest parties and gatherings, who was there and who how it was decorated and who wore what (hmn...kind of just like blogging). 

There's been lots of chat about all of that around here. And lots of chat with our babes about the state of Newspaper - and print reading material today, for that matter. What a sweet history lesson we found in those walls.

But deep in my heart, and selfishly perhaps, I cannot stop wondering about the singular person or, wife of the person, who put that newpaper there, that August day in 1929. Who was she?  At that point, living in a hundred year old house, was it she who pushed her husband to finish off the walls of that ell to the barn to expand the size of the small cape? Was she, too, sometimes frustrated at the pace of things, while simultaneously overwhelmed with gratitude for what was around her? Were her children climbing the walls and filling her kitchen and requiring more space be made to accomodate all? Did she hope it would all be done before the winter began? Did she knit and sew and feel like she spent her whole day in that kitchen? Of course she did.

I haven't made it down to the town's historical society yet, though we've lived here for over a year now. I keep saying I haven't had the time to do so. But I'm not really a believer in that kind of talk. We make "time" for the things most important to us. No...I don't think it's time at all...I think it's that a part of me really loves the dreaming still. The unknown of who was here before us, and all the imagining and daydreaming of who those people were. Someday, I'll be ready for the details of names and dates and deaths and births. But for now, it's enough to feel their energy here in the ways we do, to find traces of them here and there, and to imagine who they might have been.

I hope they'd like the work we're doing here. I surely love the work they left behind, even if I do take down a wall or two of theirs here and there. I hope they'd understand. I'd like to think she would.

our harvest table

I will do my best to restrain my over-the-top excitement about this for your sake, but the plain and simple truth is that I LOVE THIS TABLE. I really, really love this table. I walk into the kitchen, even when I don't have to, just to look at this table and be reminded that it's here. I'm inspired to make every single snack an elaborate full-family sit-down affair so that we can sit around it. You get the idea. Love. 

This would be our new table, built by Steve (the man who claims he doesn't know how to build things. Yeah, that guy). With a self-imposed deadline (who can work without a deadline?) of Thanksgiving Day, our dinner guests arrived and were directed not to the kitchen (where I was cooking with a baby on my back and four children underfoot for the sake of getting.the.table.done!), but to the workshop, where this table was still being constructed. Oh yes.

At 1pm, it was brought into the kitchen at just the moment I pulled our turkey out of the oven. Final assembly happened, with a table-setting crew following closely behind. (With final staining saved for later that night.) There's nothing like a little deadline to keep things exciting, get the blood pumping, and get something done, now is there? 

It was modeled a bit after this table, with modified plans from here. We stained the table top with a few clear coats of Vermont Natural Coatings. The apron and legs were built with rough-cut 2x4's, while the top boards and the bottom foot board came from an old barn of some friends. 

It's everything I hoped it would be and asked for - simple, sturdy, made out of something old, and big enough for a crowd (it's nine feet long), but not so big that the seven of us can't sit comfortably and closely. But what I love just as much as all of that, is the way this man, who certainly never grew up building things, just dove on in and gave it a go one step at a time (with at least one child underfoot at all times). That inspires me, and I dare say, I think he totally rocked this project. 

The old barn boards on top are full of grooves and knots and twists and axe marks and oh-so-much character and history. Each time I sit down at it, I imagine the past of this wood, while dreaming about the future stories yet to come around this table. And oh, the right now is very good too. It's lovely.

feels like

:: :: :: 

 :: stacking. storing. piling.

{1. the woodshed is done, 2. washing the woolens, 3. the very last of the tomatoes, 4. the annual sock shop, 5. bringing herbs in}

:: :: :: 

:: mending. fixing. repairing.

{1. patching his sweater, 2. & 3. new buttons freshening up old favorites, 4. & 5. vintage fabric on library chairs}

:: :: :: 

As we bustle our way through our days right now, wishing each one was just a little bit longer, I can't help but feel a bit like a busy squirrel. Stacking, piling, storing, mending, fixing, repairing. Preparing.

It sure feels like fall!

a painted hearth

Oh, for the love of this warm little corner, and that mighty woodstove.

When installing our stove last year, I originally thought we'd replace the existing tile with something we like a lot more this summer. But those plans were usurped by woodsheds and gardens and babies and oh, a whole list of things that were much higher on the list than this. The thing is, those tiles are totally functional...and I have a hard time just ripping them out and replacing them purely because "I don't like it". You know? It just seems silly to me.

Which is where a good old can of paint comes in. A simple can of paint is such a miracle, really. Much to my family's eye-rolling, I firmly believe there's nothing a can of paint can't fix. (Papa believes the same of baling wire and duct tape. We make such a good team.)  I used a tile primer, followed by a semi-gloss paint. And the wood 'trim' around the tile is the same trim paint I've used throughout the house (Yolo's Air .01). Painting went smoothly (even with all my "helpers" and kitten prints on the wet paint, and somehow the baby spit up there too), and I like it much, much better than what was there before.

Though I must confess, I am not so convinced about the color. I took a fabric swatch in from the very blanket and pillows I made for this room, trying to make an olivey-green match. (It's Benjamin Moore's Sweet Vibrations. Good name, yes? I think I got sold on the name.) But I'm not so sure I got it right - the jury is still out (with six, nay seven, opinionated voices in the house, you can be sure there IS a jury). In some light, it's a bit too much for me. And yet, in other lights...and most importantly....by the light of the fire - it's just right.

The beauty of this possible mistake, though...is that it's nothing a(nother) can of paint can't fix. And I can live with it for now.

Oh yes, I can live with it just fine...

she sews for chickens

Oh, for love of the banner. Bunting, banner, whatever you may call it, it seems as though there's one for every room and every ocassion around here. There are the birthday banners that have been around for so long now, featured in The Creative Family. The "dream" banner that graces the cover of Handmade Home. And The Leaves All Around Us banner, in the Rhythm of Family, dons the walls of our library. (And until this moment, I didn't realize there was one in each of my books!)

This summer, I added a simple little party bunting to our yard. Strips of linen with vintage doilies and fabric strips (with a creative nod to the lovel Ms. Dottie Angel herself). Such an easy little thing to make, and a great way to 'see' all those pretty little things that often sit in a drawer. I noticed Adelaide over my shoulder as I was sewing it. The wheels were turning in her own head, I could see, and it wasn't just a few days later that she asked for some studio time of her own.

{photos by Adelaide}

Carefully choosing "fabric the chickens will like" from the scrap bin, cutting into "triangles, squares and rectangles", she zig-zag stitched them right to some strips of bias tape, thereby putting together this little banner of her very own. For the chickens, of course.

When she asked me for help hanging it, she spied the camera I had set down and said, "Oh! Can I take pictures of it? For your blog, Mama?" Clever little girl - she took the above three photos, followed by exactly two hundred and ten photographs of her chickens.

We make things for those we love, yes? It's safe to say these ladies are loved.

corners of my home :: the family chalkboard

Shortly after we moved here, I painted this entire wall a black chalkboard. It was a total hit - the kids loved it. I loved it.

But then somewhere about midwinter, I began to wonder why my kitchen felt so dark. Huh. I wonder. Perhaps it had something to do with the entire wall I painted black in an already poorly lit room? Perhaps.

And so, when I painted the rest of the room recently, the black...became yellow.

There were great cries of protest.

And I totally understood. I love having a chalkboard nearby, too.

How else was I to keep a grocery list that didn't wander off and get lost? How was I to keep the littlest ones happy when they tired of making dinner with me, or working in their own play kitchen?

Another spot was found quickly. Here it is, in this little nook, between our kitchen and living room...this work-in-progress little nook with ever changing plans (oh, wait till you see what I've cooked up for a ceiling plan in here!).

{*Lots of you email me asking for the ecological solution I've found for chalkboard paint. I didn't. I used this. Though I've since learned, that chalkboard paint can be created with any paint and tile grout using this recipe. So in theory, perhaps something greener could be made. Oh! And this is our favorite child-friendly chalk.}

What's going on in the upper right of the basement door, you ask? Why that's a hole, whose origin I can't understand really. But for this purpose (and until we decide what's happening to this door anyway),  said "hole" works wonderfully as a little frame for rotating kids artwork.

So now we've got a frame, room for my grocery lists, space to draw, and a spot for Ezra's latest and greatest song quotes.  

And family peace and happiness has once again been restored by one late night and a can of paint.

Yes.

corners of our home :: turning turquoise

That was fun.

and be kind

This little lovely was headed for a burn pile (literally). What's that, you say? A burn pile is precisely where it belongs? Well, that's just what my parents said, and Steve said, as it was sent away not once but twice. Oh, but I got it back, and knew I only had a matter of time to do something with it before someone tried to clear it out of here once again.

So one day recently, with just two at home, I dove right in (it's very silly how all of a sudden "just" two or "just" three becomes miraculously easy, but of course when we had just two or just three total, it wasn't that way at all. Hmn).

And then I cut up a bunch of tee shirts. Do you know where I'm going with this? Oh yes, an Alabama Chanin chair. It's from her book Alabama Studio Style (the only online photo I can find of one of her chairs is here in Anna Maria's post about her time with Alabama).

The chair got a good scrubbing, a fresh coat of paint, and then I began tying the jersey on, and weaving, and tying some more. Annabel napped a lot - right on my chest, and Ezra and I played Scrabble. All day long. Which is his favorite game to play, and fabulously fun and funny with him...but goodness, it really is an all day affair. He prefers to play with no time limit on turns, which is just fine by me so long as one is able to do something else while he's thinking and planning and plotting his next move for however long as it takes. Which can be a very long time. Which is just how the weaving and tying was done on this chair.

 

I painted a favorite quote on the ladderback of the chair. It reads, "Do the best that you can where you are, and be kind." by Scott Nearing. I'm a little bit in love with this chair, I have to tell you. And I love how it tucks so wonderfully into this corner of our living room - where the little ones often sit and browse the nearby photo albums, or climb up to play with the rocks. Or read a little Gertude Stein as the case may be (Harper's quite advanced for his age, you know. Hee).

With a newborn baby, a house with so many renovation projects in progress, and a garden that needs some love...there were so many other things I could have done that day. Sleep. Weed. Clean. Cook. You know...the list goes on. But oh, sometimes it just feels so very good to make. And not just to make, but to make something entirely 'frivilous' and fun and for the sheer purpose of making something (hopefully) beautiful. It feels good. It fuels the soul. And it was just what I really needed most of all on that day. (That and a good long game of Scrabble. I love that too.)

may table

barefeet, bicycles, bruised knees, sandals, backyard camping,  tea parties with dolls and cats, plants in the ground, sunshine, sandals, spring peepers, and marshmallows toasted over a fire...oh, now that was a spring weekend!

This first May weekend also brought about our first "it's too lovely to go inside for dinner!" evenings. Except that...we didn't have a table upon which to eat (one was left behind in the move and my dream wrought-iron table has yet to manifest itself on a thrifting hunt...but it will).

That problem was solved with a quick search in the barn for an old and not-in-use barn door (but not so old so that I needed to worry about lead paint), a layer of fresh white exterior paint (leftover from the floors), some tree stumps for legs, and we had ourselves a cozy little low-level sitting table just a few hours later. I made a few mismatched slip-on pillowcases (for easy washing) out of vintage tablecloths for ground cushions. And I dare say, we had ourselves a simply marvelous first outdoor spring dinner. 

Ah, sweet, sweet May!

corners of our home :: a little nook

This little corner of our home, as you can see (and may have seen before), is in transition. It likely will be for a little (or perhaps long) while longer while we birth a baby, play and work outside, make decisions about it, manifest the perfect french doors to appear in our lives, and otherwise wait for this spot to move to the top of the budget, time and priority lists. It separates the kitchen and our living room (and therefore the 'old' and 'new' of the house, this corner was originally part of the barn),  so it's a space we pass through many, many times a day. And well - sheetrock and exposed lathe and all - I knew it could be a usable daily space right now, with just a little bit of effort.

And so, with just that little bit of effort - some painting, a "desk" installed (using the last bits of that table), and a little bit of new art made and gathered from around the house, this little nook off our kitchen has become our planning and dreaming spot. Seed catalogs, the seeds themselves, a few gardening resources, and new garden markers are at the ready for planting time (thanks to Adelaide who spied the idea in a recent issue of Martha Stewart Living).

Perhaps most importantly to me, though, and most central to the making of this space...is that it also holds our family farm journal, and a dedicated and always-clear space upon which to write in it. The journal is something we began in the fall to record our days here -  and it contains everything from the mundane potato seed order to a weather report to the orchard 'plans' to a child-written account of a(nother) day the pigs got out. (I'm loving that journal.)

Much like the garden, pasture, and land around us...this tiny little corner, too will likely be transformed many times over in the years to come. But, oh, I'm loving the beginnings and the right now of it so very much.

a quilt for Harper

Some of you might remember a guest fat quarter pack that I put together for Sew Mama Sew last winter. In choosing the pieces, I always intended for it to be the beginnings of a quilt for Harper...when he was ready for his own quilt. (His flannel quilt/blanket has loved and warmed him, but was never meant to be his real, true Mama-made quilt.) The quilt bundle has sat (and grown a little bit with a few new pieces added), waiting for the right time in which he was ready for a room or space of his own.

Just recently, that time has come (a little unexpectedly by this Mama who still thinks of him as such a little one), as he moved on into Ezra's room. Ezra who has missed having a roommate since we moved here, loves having someone to read to, play music for, and sing to at night (and someone who doesn't complain when it's the Boxcar Children and Conor Oberst once again). And Harper stands and walks just a little bit taller and 'older' now that he has his own space in which to play, read and sleep (and learn to love vinyl). Both boys are delighted at the change. (And Mama and Papa are both delighted that they're both delighted.)

The pattern is a Chinese coin quilt, though I didn't really follow a pattern (there is, though, a great crib size coin pattern in Last Minute Patchwork and Quilted Gifts.) I cut the pieces to both two and three inch lengths, sewed those into strips, and adjusted the sashes to make the size quilt I wanted. The white  fabric (sashings and the back) is a wonderfully thick and hearty Moda muslin from Alewives. I used the Nature-fil bamboo batting, which I've used on all of our quilts and like the (thinish) weight that it creates. I used painter's tape, as you saw, to mark the quilting lines - just simple diagonal machine quilting worked well for this, I think. And the binding I made (with this fabric) and applied using the instructions that I always call upon in Denise Schmidt Quilts.

When all was said and done, and the quilt was happily set upon Harper's bed in his new space, I went back to the pile of scraps I had leftover to make a pillow...and the banner over his bed (the banner was made by simply ziz zag stitching the squares to a strip of twill tape).

(Anticipating some other questions....Harper's doll is by Bamboletta. The alphabet cards on the door are from Ida Pearle. His knit blanket I wrote about here. And the instructions for making the bird collage hooks are in Handmade Home.)

Who knew when I was choosing these fabrics over a year ago that they would end up so perfectly fitting into the band-aid colored room in which he was to sleep - and read and dance and play - with his big brother. All I knew is that they reminded me of the late autumn season in which my fourth babe, Harper was born.

And so, with this project complete, and for just a very little while longer until the last babe arrives, I will rest happily at night knowing that all of my babies are tucked peacefully into their beds under a quilt I stitched just for them. And that is a very happy feeling indeed.

corners of our home :: a hint of tansy

{in July}

I've been thinking about tansies a lot lately, inspired surely by late winter dreams and longings for green (!), flowery (!), growing (!) things...as well as a recent little house project. They're my favorite flower, that common tansy weed - just the most perfect of colors, delicate and subtle, with a fascinating texture, and always arriving at a favorite time of year - in the height of our summer.

Have I told you that the kitchen entry to this house - upon our first visit to it - was completely overrun by blooming tansies?  I tried to be all calm and cool about that little detail and actually look at the rest of the house before saying 'yes, please!'...but, really now. She had me at the tansies.

This week, I've been painting our bedroom. It was the room that never quite made its way to the 'paint' list before we moved in. Not just because we ran out of time, or paint money, but mostly because it was lined with sleeping bags and gear from wall to wall as we made a mess in every other room of the house. It was the one safe and clear room. In all it's unpaintedness, it was a little refuge of sorts from dust, chaos and paint trays. I will never forget those weeks - that month - in this room with all of us, collapsing onto the floor each night in sheer new house excitement/exhaustion (with mama just freshly pregnant, to boot).

I've been waiting for a wintry stretch of days full of motivation to do something about this room. It finally struck these past weeks as I've begun thinking about making space for peaceful birthing and all the quiet, tender and restful moments of a new baby's life.

Tidying, rearranging, and painting - ceiling, floors, walls and trim, oh my! But oh, what a fresh coat of paint does. The paint is Yolo's Leaf .01 (my big paint post can be found here) and I think it just might be my current favorite. A little bit green, a little bit yellow in some light, definitely with a hint of mustard and  a touch of goldenrod...

It's a new kind of refuge now, this space. I've done my best to make it the barest, simplest and cleanest of rooms in the house, the result being that it feels like a deep exhale to me. It reminds me of those tansies. It may not be their precise color - but there's a quiet hint of it in just the right light.

Soon enough, there will be a new life quietly napping in here. The windows will be open to the breeze on a bright, colorful and busy summer. And I will fill this room with little white milk glass vases full of those flowers.

Corners of Our Home :: Filling the Holes

I realized this morning that last week we passed the six year anniversary of this here little blog. Happy  Blogaversary, my friends! To continue my ritual of bringing you to new and exciting places each and every single day.....today, let's head into the bathroom! Yes, again! (wink, wink.)

But really - for this tiny little room - a whole lot of my thought has gone into it. Not a whole lot of solutions yet, mind you, but a whole lot of puzzling, "well, what do we do with that?"

The above photo is the only before photo I have in this space, which means that I was operating somewhere between avoidance and denial - I couldn't even look at it safely from behind the lens. (Avoidance and denial work for a little while in the world of old house renovations, I'm learning. It's all good.)

Like these holes in the walls that we've been living with for six months. Holes in which my children have dropped countless toothbrushes, socks, toothpaste tube caps, pieces of playmobil hair, likely some toast, and who knows what else to be discovered in some future decade (now, that's a true time capsule). The walls in here are actually bathroom wall cladding. Plastic walls. Not so easy to patch. And the whole-room demo/redo that I came up with as "the perfect solution"? So not in the budget right now, or anywhere close to the top of either the Want or Need priority list.

And so we make do, right?

Some simple DIY plumbing solutions, a skirt for a sink, the just-right fitting  and affordably-thrifted vintage mirror (six months of walking around thrift shops with a tape measure finally paid off), one new light fixture (Acworth from Barnlight Electric), and a simple little modge-podged towel hook that allows for a 'big people' hand towel in addition to the one for little hands below (and, oh-so-conveniently covers up another hole in the wall).

This corner is done. For now.

{Top print by Camilla Engman, bottom print by Ashley Goldberg.}

One tiny, simple little corner at a time, it really does all come together.

her new corner

Adelaide and Papa cooked up and completed a little carpentry project this weekend.

With the legs off my great grandmother's table (for Ezra's door record table), there was a table top left in the barn, waiting for some sort of repurposed purpose. And so, a few leaves of that table made their way to her bedroom walls, where the rounded drop leaves now serve as shelves for some of her more fragile and special-to-her things. A spot to keep things up high and out of the way of the precocious feline paws and toddler fingers that visit her room so often.

And while I'm in there...a few more sights below from around her room, as it's evolved into a space that's all her own and perfectly her right now. It's the room in which you'll find more stuffed animals  and horses than you can imagine (all accounted for), and if you look closely...there's always a live one in there too. It's where all the cats go...and she couldn't be more thrilled about that. My sweet girl.

 

as simple as that

I set my mind to bedskirts yesterday. Namely, Ezra's bed was in need of one. He has a wonderful old bed that was made by my Great Uncle Don many, many years ago. I love the rough wood, the uneven finish, and the truly handmade look that it has. But goodness, is that bed high (which is part of what makes it wonderful when you're seven!). Uncle Don certainly wasn't making it with the box springs and pillow top mattresses of today in mind. Which meant the skirt we needed would have to be extra long - nothing I'd be able to find for purchase. Not to mention, we needed a fabric and fit that would please both this Mama who looks at the bed a whole lot and the boy who sleeps in the bed every single night. Each with, let's just say, rather particular tastes.

Oh, such thought for a little bedskirt!

But yesterday, I walked by and discovered three little ones quite happily corralled in said bedroom (Ezra's room is the place to be, you know). An opportunity to start a tiny project, I thought. I had just been putting some linens away, and had an idea. What if...I just used a bedspread as the skirt? Could it really be as simple as turning a blanket sideways to hang evenly over both sides, maybe with just a bit of hemming? With eager helpers (who doesn't want to see their mattress on the floor - where the best kind of jumping can ensue?), we gave it a go.

After we placed the chenille coverlet just so, I attached it to the the box spring on all the corners and at several points along each side with Quilters safety pins. When the jumpers were worn out from the mattress-on-the-floor action, the four of us heaved the mattress on top (I have so much help). And voila - I think it kinda worked. Just as simple as that.

It may not be a permanent bed skirt solution, but maybe that's the beauty - we can easily switch it out with another spread whenever it strikes our fancy. And for now...it cleverly hides the baskets of stuff under Ezra's bed, while saving me from an afternoon of measuring and sewing (though that would have been lovely too). Instead, I got to climb upon that bed (I need the chair too), and join the band for a little while. There's always a jam session happening in here...and it's always a good way to while away the hours.

corners of our home :: chaos & peace...together

When I was growing up, we lived in a hundred year old sea captain's house that my parents renovated. Working from room to room - one at a time - I remember the tapestries nailed to doorways of rooms full of dust with table saws in the middle of them. I remember lots of dust, exposed lathe, never walking anywhere barefoot, and snow blowing into the house (really).

I'm having flashbacks.

But! Demo is good. Demo is progress. And blue tarps and vintage sheets as doorways make wonderful backdrops for all sorts of lovely performances, yes? Yes! Demo means that soon there will be paint colors to choose and light fixtures to plan. Demo means that right now - we get to draw on walls (that will soon come down). Oh yes, Demo is wonderful.

When the chaos of one room is getting to be a little too much, or the dust a little too unsafe for this pregnant mama and four babes, and really, because I'm a little useless these days in such situations anyway, a retreat order is issued.

More often than not...we find ourselves turning the corner from chaos and heading into the peace of the library. It's seen just a few changes since I brought you in here last. Most excitedly would the be addition of light! Hooray for evening library hours! (It's the Ivanhoe from Barnlight Electric. Thanks to your advice and the advice of the folks at BLE, I opted for something larger than I had originally planned.) Also joining this room - a sweet neighbor brought us that old school desk. With room for everyone to spread out and soak up the peace, it's just the sanctuary of a room we could ask for.

And if we concentrate really hard on what we're doing, focus on the pretty sunlight coming in through the snowy windows, or add the sound of a  little ukelele, why you would almost never know what's going on just one room over. Almost.

corners of our home :: pretty plumbing

Not all farmhouse repairs are pretty. In fact, we're finding that many of them are not at all pretty. The recent bout of daily frozen pipes? Decidedly not pretty. And similarly in the plumbing world, a recent repair that went a little something like this: 

If you ask Harper for his version of this story, he'll excitedly tell you in his fabulous one-word sentences: "Wall -Up. Hole. Wawa. RAIN! Couch. Wet. Oh-oh."

And, really? That just about covers it. The longer version is a classic case of a "simple" plumbing repair  in a 200 year old house gone very much astray. One little thing leads to another, you start digging around the archaic system of metal hidden in the walls, and before you know it, those broken old faucet handles you set out to replace have become the least of your worries. Chaos ensues. A little bit of mystery. Hopefully some laughter.

Ah, but with all disasters come a lesson...or two.  For you and me and all to see, I share with you our lessons learned in this particular foray into the World of Plumbing:

1. There IS no such thing as a simple plumbing project. (Particularly, I might add, when you're not a plumber, have never been a plumber, and don't even know any plumbers. And especially, I do believe, when not a single piece of pipe you're dealing with is younger than your oldest living relative.)

2. Perhaps it is best not to leave the house for six hours after beginning one's first plumbing project.  (Ahem. If I'm being honest here, I do recall someone advising against this before we set out on a family affair. I think I'm owed a big ole "I told you so" but he's too nice to do it).

In the end, there's a...um...hole in my living room ceiling that will someday work it's way up to the top of the to-do list (if only that magic wand of hers worked!), still a little bit of mystery (where exactly did all that water come from?), and a few little plumbing lessons learned. But! In the end we also have a simple old sink saved, and - what we set out to do to begin with - faucet handles that turn without the vice-grip-as-handle we had previous rigged up. Handwashing with ease, my friends!

We're calling that a rousing house renovation success.

To celebrate, (and maybe - just maybe - because fixing an old sink with new and plastic parts means that the piping underneath is less than pretty now), I made her a skirt.

Pretty plumbing repairs? But, of course!

corners of our home :: simple fixes

In my rather grand and noble attempt to keep farm boots and food table in separate spaces (such a lofty goal!), I declared 'the barn' (which you enter before coming into the kitchen) as the place for jackets, hats, boots and all the incoming and outgoing wear that a family of six requires. Our baskets have worked so well, and there was a place for those, and a place for everything...in the barn.

All was well and good with The Barn as The Plan....until winter hit. And then, at one point, I found myself staring in the face of a shivering toddler, telling him that he needed to take his boots and jacket off in The Barn (where it was as cold as outside) and then come inside. I realized just how ridiculous I sounded as I heard the words coming out of my mouth. And? I didn't want to do it myself, either.

Soon, though, this little corner of our kitchen began to look something like this:

Decidedly not working.

So I came up with a perfect plan! It involves a little bit of concrete, some stone work, a couple of new windows, some reclaimed wood, and cutting a hole in the wall of my kitchen to create the most perfect of mudrooms. And which while we're at it, let's make it just a little bit bigger and turn half of it into a greenhouse. Doesn't that sound wonderful? I thought so, and I daydreamed about that for a little while. I  filled the ears of my husband with my plans (I believe I may have said "it only took the Nearings twelve years to build their stone fence and they were so much older than we are right now!"), and I wrote it into the ever-changing list of plans and goals for this here farmhouse of ours.

And then (after I was kindly laughed at), I moved on...

...and headed to the barn for Plan B. This is what I returned with. Beautiful, yes? Ahem. Perhaps not so much. Perhaps it was in the 'trash' pile. But necessity is the mother of invention they say, and well, it fit the budget (being "zero").

There's nothing though, that a little bit of paint and some nails can't fix (except plumbing, but we'll save that story for next week). Especially when you have the help of a two year old (who is best left out of the plumbing deal too, by the way).

Since we bought the house, I'd been finding these simple utilitarian little hooks throughout the house - in closets, on walls, in nooks and crannies everywhere. As simple and unassuming as they are, knowing they'd been in the house for so long, I felt a little pang removing each one where we no longer needed them. So I was delighted to recall a bowl full of them in the workshop just for this project - happy to bring them back inside.

And there we have it. Everyone keeps one pair of boots, one jacket, one hat and one pair of mittens in this here little spot (the rest remains in the barn), and it totally works. It's a spot to sit and change into slippers (if so desired or strongly requested by Mama), a place to wipe one's feet, and a way to enter our house.

{Since I'm thinking you'll ask - the print is by Nikki McClure, as is the mushroom tote bag. What can I say? I like her work. I didn't paint this room, but hope to soon with a softer yellow than this one -  Yolo's Grain 01 to be precise. As you can see from the first photo to the last, I'm working on painting the trim here - one nap at a time. That's how it goes.}

As simple as this little problem and solution were, I find the process interesting to think about. There's the lofty mudroom/greenhouse dreamed up and planned out - which may or may not ever actually happen. There are the two dozen "entryway" photos in my 'house inspiration' desktop folder that were drooled over, and a dozen more websites with something or other that I wanted to buy to make it happen.

But in the end, there's working with what we have and coming up with something that fulfills a family need.  As simple as that. Whether it be made with yarn or fabric or a nearly rotten wooden bench found in a two-hundred year old barn... I think there's a great joy to be found in a process such as this. And Keeping it Simple? Oh, it applies everywhere in our lives...in all the little corners.

into the season

 

The holiday boxes are open, with their various handmade, vintage, kid-made, traditional-and-not contents being placed here and there throughout this house. I really am not certain who is more excited this year, as the kids pull out each little thing and remember everything they do about it, and as I am reminded with the search for a place for each and every little thing that we are here. This is and will be a beautiful season full of the celebration of light all around us, of that I am certain. And now, here we are, upon it...

Wishing you too, much joy and child-like excitement as this season begins!

open studio

My use of the word 'done' has changed a bit since moving into this old farmhouse of ours just two months ago. I had thought I'd share this space with you when it was 'done'. Ahem. But 'done' originally meant tearing down the ceiling (to expose beams like in the library), replacing the sink (for there is a full bathroom behind one set of those folding doors), and finding just the right light fixtures (three in this room, oh my), amidst other details. The reality, though, is that right now there is more insulation to place, fences to build, wood to gather, and children to feed, cloth and love up all day long every day. And well, I'd just like to (need to) get sewing already!

So let's call it 'done', shall we? Come on in!

You can see the room "before" and in progress in this October post. The paint color (official paint post here) is Yolo's Nourish .02. (I might have been sold on the name. Good thing I love the color too.) It's such a stretch colorwise from the studio I had in our last home. But it feels just right - like linen and sand, I am constantly reminded. In a year (or so), this will be our bedroom when a larger and more permanent studio is finished above the barn, and do I think this color will work well as a bedroom color too.

Everything in here was somewhere else in our home with just a few little exceptions. The bookshelves were a little birthday gift from Portland Architectural Salvage (a most fun place to visit!). That lovely new (old) yellow kitchen table to sew upon was found at the transfer station by a friend with a good eye (thank you very much Dan!). Oh, and the doorknobs (which I just know you'll ask about because I would too) are from Anthropologie.

It's similar to how I've set up workspaces in the past, with two new additions that I'm loving. I'm especially so pleased to be able to store my fabric and notions in a fully shelved (thank you, Steve!) closet, where I can easily see it all when I need to, and close the doors when I don't want to see it. I had no idea how pleasantly quieting that would be (not to mention, saving my fabric from the sun damage I've struggled with in the past). And having a work table at just the right height for cutting (it's an old breakfast bar with the legs cut just a bit) makes for such smooth work flow (and a straighter back!).

I'm so excited about and so very grateful for a room like this once again! I tried to carry a simple, calm and quiet vibe when setting it all up. There was so much art and textiles and fabric that I didn't end up displaying or using here - only my favorites. I know that this work space IS going to get cluttered with the bits and bobs of making things in progress, and I wanted there to be room to do that without cluttering up either the work areas or my mind to begin with.

And so now...on the eve of December, I do believe it's time to get to work in here. Yes!

from the barn II

Carpenters - and spouses of carpenters (because we learn a whole lot by osmosis, don't we?) - you may just want to avert your eyes from here today for what you are about to witness is a hack job of the truest kind. A hack job, though, that was for one - free, and secondly - totally works. Hooray!

So, last time in From The Barn, I promised you power tools this time around and here you have it. Just a drill, mind you, but a powertool nonetheless. (I'm working my way up. Just you wait.)

The problem was that we needed a table for Ezras room that could hold his stereo, speakers, and provide some way to 'store' his albums too. It needed to fit into the space had left in his room, naturally, and um, it needed to be free. So...I headed to the barn.

In that barn, after working my way through a whole lot of spiders (I have never seen spiders like I've seen in this barn!), I found an old pile of doors. This one - a half door of sorts, perhaps for some kind of cabinet or closet or space that no longer existed inside the house. Poking around for some kind of "legs," I found the pieces of what could barely be called a table anymore. It belonged, actually, to my great grandmother (because when you buy a house with a barn, why not add some of your own 'stuff' to the piles?) and despite it being well beyond repair, I've had the hardest time letting it go. Until I decided in that moment that in pieces, and repurposed, we could actually enjoy it once again. And so...off with its legs.

I took off the glass doorknob (and tucked that away for something else), all the hinges and gave it a good cleaning. And then (this is where you want to avert your eyes, professionals!), I simply screwed those legs (um, many times) with the longest screws I could find right onto the four corners of the table. A tiny bit of sanding on the bottom to level it all, some putty to cover the holes, a layer of paint later (Yolo's Imagine .04, which I've used on all the bookshelves in the house)....and well, we had ourselves a table.

Yes, we were all quite happy about that.

It fits, just perfectly, where I needed it to go, without taking up too much space. I love that it has a bit of the 'old' house story, and a bit of our 'old' family story too.

And mostly I love that it's miraculously straight and completely sturdy and just perfect for all the rocking out that my little boy loves to do with his records.

He keeps his Album of the Week right here.

Sorry John, Paul, George and Ringo. It looks like you're on your way out.

 

corners of our home :: the kitchen rhythm

Late last night, at the end of my long drive home from Beekeeping School (yes, bees! maybe...), I realized, that for the first time, I had driven the whole way home without giving the drive itself much thought. I mean, I wasn't conciously making sure that I didn't miss the turns, or followed the right route.  My mind wandered for an hour and I suddenly found myself...here. It is, I think, becoming 'second nature' to find my way home. 

It happens slowly. And it's still happening slowly. Some rooms in this house instantly felt like 'home' with the presence of us, or the presence of our things. And other spaces are taking a bit more time to settle into. The kitchen is the room we have the most (very long-term) plans for, and yet for now - for the next few years - it will be as it is. In this room, I am slowly - slowly and surely - beginning to feel like I am in my kitchen instead of borrowing someone else's. But I still find myself so often stopping the flow of baking and working to try and remember just where it is now, that I'm storing the x,y, or z. I'm playing around with the sun as it moves through the day, figuring out just where best to let the bread rise. The kids are still uncertain as to where to pile the dirty dishes and where to put the clean ones away. And I'm moving things around (and around and around) to find the best configuration for the rhythm of work that we all do here.

For this space - more than any other space in our homes is the one we sink into (forgive the pun) more than anywhere else, isn't it? We do and live so much in this space of a room. We feed and are fed here, we make a mess, our hands dig into the dough, and into the dirty sink water, they become clean again, and we literally put down our roots with each sticky, messy, creative, thoughtful touch.

I'm mindful of this as our days progress and we make and bake, and eat and feed, and clean and cook. That soon, without me fully realizing it, the second-nature graceful 'rhythm of kitchen' will be felt. It is, in fact, happening right now - slowly but surely - one loaf of bread, one sink full of dishes,  one dance around the table, one gathered family meal at a time. It's becoming us.

 

fireside weekend

It was a marvelous little weekend here. We took the two older boys to their first Michael Franti & Spearhead concert, and they were so very happy (and I swear, as the years roll by, that man's energy just grows and grows...I wanna be like that). I finished a long-on-the-needles sweater (more on that soon, naturally). And I rediscovered my love of making (okay, really, eating) jam tarts. Not to mention all the regular and good good family fun, lots of kitchen dancing, and a very respectable amount of progress on outside projects.

But I would be fooling no one if I didn't admit that the highlight of the past few days was really THIS moment:

Friends...we have heat! Honest to goodness, winter-like-I-know-it-to-be, wood heat. (Oh! And Jotul comes from Norway, not Sweden. I stand corrected.)

(Wanna see the same space two months ago?) A week ago, even with what we had already done, this room felt like a shell of a room, and each time I walked through it, I was reminded of all the things it still needed - some rugs, a whole mess of curtains, art on the walls, a few more places to sit, a re-do of the hearth, a new light fixture, and a piano that I can't seem to find. Oh yeah, and all that trim and crown molding that's missing.

But now? Suddenly the heart(h) of our family is right here...and so are we and everything we do. When all of us are here together, I am exciting about the coming season, and full of gratitude.  For there are the six of us, a whole pile of books, a mountain of yarn, and a big stack of records to play on that new/old stereo.

All is well. (And warm!)

at the top of the stairs

There wasn't a love-at-first-sight for me with this house, but more like a really slow settling-in of a good feeling as we began to explore it, if that makes any sense at all. Neither Steve or I were incredibly optimistic about the house when we first decided to look closer, but we didn't have anything to lose and we certainly weren't having a whole lot of luck (we thought) anyway. And so we looked.

That slowly settling-in good feeling kicked in for me in this center hallway. It felt alive, strong, open and bright, and full of the (good) energy of all who may have passed through it in it's two hundred years.

And at the top of the stairs, there is this little nook. It's small, but I knew right away in that first visit that it could be the coziest of quiet play spots. And right in that first visit I daydreamed all the way through my childrens' childhoods of play here in this very spot, and right on into another generation. (I couldn't help myself. I was starting to fall in love with the house, after all.)

Quite rapidly, this space was set up and in use - even during construction time. With just one of our rugs (covering the gigantic 21" wide floor boards!), walls left empty for more dreaming, and a playsilk from the beams, I didn't "do" a lot to the space. It holds a whole host of imaginary play and dreaming tools. From dress up, to books and pillows to snug up with, and all the dollhouse/farmhouse/treehouse goods four babes could need.

It's a sunny spot, this little nook at the top of the stairs, and therefore one of the warmest places in the house right now. And it's here that I find at least one little one much of the time - in a spot that couldn't be more central to the house, and yet, has a bit of quiet and peace just right for the daydreaming that such play is usually full of.

. . . . . . . . . .

Postscript:
Well, geez. I should know better than to post photos of all those things without the appropriate sources for them! The rug is a handmade braided one (it - and the instructions to make it - are in my book Handmade Home) It was inspired by my great aunt who made many others in our home, including the wee little i-cord dollhouse rug as a child. I love that I have that early rug of hers! The playsilk hanging above is by Sarah's Silks. As for the doll and farm play, in order of the most played with (for those curious about these things): the farmhouse is by Ostheimer (as are most of the wooden farmhouse figures, with a few Kathe Kruse thrown in too); the (made in Maine) dollhouse is Seri's Dollhouse; then there is the Wooden Tree House Doll House; and the Wooden Camper (which was from Magic Cabin 8 years or so ago, and I couldn't find any maker info on it). There are many wonderful shops who carry all of these things (including many of my fine sponsors!), so I'll let you search around and find the right place for you.

And one more quick note about all that before moving on, because that was a whole lot of all that and I can't quite open the door on all of that without addresses the very real issue of cost. I'm sure I've written about this a few times over the years (once here), and quite a lot in The Creative Family. Simply, I believe that less is more with children's playthings. That quality and beauty matter. And that open ended, imaginative, nature-inspired playthings can last for years and years of varied use with just one child. As for the financial factor, when I think about how few toys I've ever had to 'throw away,' I am reminded that these choices have in fact, cost us less than (I believe) a childhood of commercially available 'disposable' toys. Our playthings have grown over a full decade now (my baby is almost ten!), with many, many birthdays and holidays for four babes in that time. We are big fans of gathering the gift-giving resources of family to share in one big and special gift, rather than lots of little things. I have no doubt that each of these dollhouses - or our playkitchen, as another example - will be around for grandchildren to enjoy - full of memories and beauty still left to discover. Less is more.

. . . . . . . . . .