He Still Gives Grace

From His fullness we have all received

grace upon grace.

-John 1:16

Haven't we? I mean, absolutely: life is tough now. Sin, sickness and Satan are having their way with our world and, to some degree, our very lives. But even through it all- especially through it all- His grace glitters. His fullness flourishes. God is on His throne and He still gives you and He still gives me grace upon grace out of His fullness.

Sometimes we just have to quit complaining and questioning and stressing long enough to see it....

Praying His front-porch-sitting grace and solace will fill your mind and heart today. -Brin

(And yeah... I definitely need to mop and decorate this porch. What can you see here? Tell me in the comments and look for the porch reveal in April!)

Perseverance

Patience and perseverance have a magical effect before which difficulties disappear and obstacles vanish.
Read more at: http://www.brainyquote.com/search_results.html?q=perseverance

Patience and perseverance have a magical effect before which difficulties disappear and obstacles vanish.
Read more at: http://www.brainyquote.com/search_results.html?q=perseverance

Great works are performed not by strength but by perseverance.
Read more at: http://www.brainyquote.com/search_results.html?q=perseverance

Great works are performed not by strength

but by perseverance.

-Samuel Johnson

Oh my. You all should have seen the state of this third of an acre when we bought the place last May. Although there was evidence that someone once loved and doted on the old home and grounds-- i.e., the rose garden, the hidden path, the brick-encircled trees, the scalloped bed edgings-- that time was obviously long ago. Everything seemed choked with weeds and poison oak and invasive shrubs and murder vine.

But that is slowly changing. I'm making plans now to landscape the front and side of the house, as well as a (partially missing?) back brick patio. Such fun! A friend gave me a copy of an older edition of Texas Home Landscaping and I'm getting a LOT of good ideas from it. Highly recommend. Since my budget is limited, I'll be relying on plants I can start from seed, garage and junk sale finds, and plant cuttings from friends and folks about town. (And maybe a few roses from Antique Rose Emporium for my birthday. But that's just a wild thought I had. *cough*) Vicki mentioned over on Facebook that she could see ferns and geraniums on the porch. Absolutely. 

(Oh. And that reminds me! If you're on Facebook, don't miss the porch picture I posted last night. Such a relaxing and pretty spot to sit a moment...)

Won't this be a great project? 

For now, I start with a relatively clean slate. Check out the "Before" in the picture above and the "Now" right here:

Little by little!

Happy Spring, dear friend. Hope you are well and persevere today. -Brin 

This post contains an Amazon affiliate link for the purposes of sharing exact products I'm using and enjoying. You know the spill, right? If you click and buy, Amazon gives me a small kickback for the referral to their site, and that money helps me keep the blog going. It doesn't cost you or impact you in any way. Thanks!

Better Every Day - The B.E.D Mantra, Part II

Thank you- each of you- for your kind comments yesterday. I read every one and every word, whether you commented or emailed or Facebook messaged me. Thank you, really. Thank you for being here. Thank you for taking the time to write back. It means so much to me, and to the others who come here looking for a little something heartening.

I wanted to make sure I didn't give the impression yesterday that my BED mantra always results in the accomplishment of something... dramatic... or significant. Some days, my Better Every Day is a tiny victory. Some days, it gets diminished by laundry and cleaning and my long list of To Dos. Some days, Better Every Day is just shredding an old stack of mail. Or organizing a corner cabinet. Some days it's making a decision on something I've been putting off, or buying something that will help with a project. Weekend before last, it was holding a yard sale and getting rid of some junk and unnecessary things the previous owner left behind. The point is, every night at bed I want to be able to point at some step I took or task I completed and say, Yes. That made this place and our life here better today. No matter how small or simple.

This attitude is especially important to those of us taking on big projects, I think, in our get-it-now society. I mean, one episode of Fixer Upper has the potential to leave an overwhelmed DIYer discouraged for days. You know? They have an all-in budget of what? Chip and JoJo presented them the perfect home in how long? And then we look around, bewildered and frustrated, at our own projects and get lost in the magnitude of slow progress and what remains before us. Yikes. I adore the Gaines family and thank God for their testimony and putting Jesus and His goodness on display. (I mean, truly. God is showing off with that family!) But let's be real: some of us are living in and through fixer uppers on tiny budgets or hard circumstances and tackling small projects as we learn the necessary skills on the odd weekend or week off, right? Better Every Day is just something that encourages me to be patient, trust God's heart, and be thankful in the midst of overload or overwhelm. After all, sometimes our miracles and transformations play out over years, not days.
 
Do you know the poem Little By Little? I had to memorize it when I was 9, and it hasn't left me. Here's the beginning:

 "Little by little," an acorn said

As it slowly sank in its mossy bed;

"I am improving every day, 

Hidden deep in the earth away." 

Little by little each day it grew, 

Little by little it sipped the dew; 

Downward it sent a thread-like root,

Up in the air sprung a tiny shoot. 

Day after day, and year after year, 

Little by little the leaves appear: 

And the slender branches spread far and wide,
 Til the mighty oak is the forest's pride.

So I just wanted to encourage you: You can do this. Not today. Not all of it. But today you can do a part of it. Little by little. Day after day. Do what you can, and one day you'll look back and realize you have your miracle. Your tiny acorn will be the forest's pride. Better every day.

I'm right here with you. -Brin

-     -     -     -     -

Not to bog you down with children's lit  today, but this is another (on topic) childhood favorite:

Do your best,

And leave the rest,

'Twill all come right

Some day or night. 

-Anna Sewell, Black Beauty 

Oh! And the reason for the strawberry picture is this: today my BED project is painting these strawberry stones.

The Great Wall of the Front Room

There's something about these winter months that draw me inside and inward, I think, wanting stretches of quiet and solitude and time to think. Space to just... be. I apologize if my winter wantings have left you feeling lonely around here as of late. As way of a proper apology, I have a bit of a Front Room update.

Ah, the odd, long Front Room. Remember this picture from the summer? This room has been such a challenge. It stretches almost the entire width of Hedge House and is a surprising room to step into from off the breezy porch. I felt it the first time the door swung aside and let me into this funnily carved-out house. Whatever you're expecting to find inside, it isn't what greets you. It isn't this room. Everyone who visits experiences it, too. I know this from the startled "ohhh!" or "wow" or "huh" sounds that sneak out of first-time visitor's lips before they're in with both feet. This house is a hodge-podge of oddly proportioned and strangely positioned rooms and corners and doors. I adore it.

But back to the Front Room. It is long but shallow, with an enormous fireplace and mirror on one side (the "Great Wall", as I call it), and a gigantic picture window on the opposite end. In between the imposing mirror and its opposite window sits a room with original parquet wood floors and a looming ceiling. It's impossible to arrange furniture in and harder, still, to decorate. It was also difficult to choose a paint color; my go-to colors looked chalky by the windows but almost violet by the mirror. I finally settled on Sherwin-Williams' Neutral Ground for the walls and Westhighland White for the trim. These, too, I adore. 

This past weekend, my Dad stopped by and helped disconnect and remove the 70+ year old Reznor gas heater from the fireplace. (At some point, the fireplace was outfitted for natural gas and a jet was run into the fire box.) It was a sad-looking relic and I was glad to see its grimy self eased out the door. In its absence, I got my first real look at the fireplace box. It appears as though a 1960s/1970s update saw busted tile cemented to the hearth floor, and faux tile paneling slapped on the front facade. This, obviously, needs updating. Soon.

There has been much discussion, too, about the mirror above the fireplace. Some family and the odd visitor insists it must stay. Others look at me quizzically and (try to) casually comment on how they're surprised the mirror wasn't the first thing I removed. A cousin even refers to it as the Elvis Mirror. Truth: I don't like it at all. But, it does bounce a lot of light around the room. I think I'd have to frame it out... give it some side panels to match the original mantle below and some thick, appropriately beautiful crown molding along the top. I just don't know. Where everyone agrees is that the mirror cannot stay as it is. 

So, an ongoing project for sure. (What I wouldn't give for Chip and Joanna Gaines to break down in front of my house one random afternoon this week. But... wouldn't we all? Ha.) Once I address the mirror and the mantle and the firebox, and once I arrange the shelves as I intend to, I think I'll call this wall done. And then it's back to the kitchen. Oh man. Could I ever use Joanna for the kitchen!

But that's a whole different story for an entirely different day... 

Hope you're well, friend, and staying warm today. It's good to be back. -Brin

Queen of Poly and the Bird on a Dark and Nearly Storming Night

They call me the Queen of Poly. Well, okay, they don't. But they should. Because Lord have mercy, cans of polyurethane have become my most constant companions as of late.

This is a picture I took five minutes ago of the master bedroom's floor. I realize it is not a gorgeous picture. To me it is, but probably not to anyone else. You see, I spent two hours sanding this floor with a palm sander. I spent 2 hours sweeping, vacuuming, and tack clothing this floor, and another hour picking splinters out of the cracks. I spent 8.5 hours on my hands and knees staining every square inch of these 80+ year old oak floor boards. And then yesterday, I smeared coats of polyurethane over this floor until it was as smooth and shiny as a skating rink. It took all. day. Pretty picture? No. But am I showing it to you anyway? Heck yes I am.

Besides, I haven't told you the best part yet. 

It was a dark and stormy night.

Okay, fine. It was a dark and soon-to-be-stormy night. But it was really dark and the wind was picking up. And there I am, all alone in this big, empty room with my poly bucket and my poly stick. The lights are blazing in the room but outside it's night, so the huge, uncurtained windows are like black holes. They're kind of unnerving; people can see in, but I can't see out. It is quiet. I sink my poly pad into the poly bucket... pppppfffffffffttt... and watch as it soaks up poly. I try to ignore the big, black windows. I'm just about to move the poly pad to the floor and apply the final coat when suddenly...

...a bird flies at my head! I scream, throw the poly stick, and tear across that stained floor and past the black hole windows, my sock feet slipping and sliding the whole way. I run out into the hall and slam the door behind me. My heart is pounding. How in the world did a bird get in there? 

After a minute, I crack the door and peek in. I look around quickly and when I don't see the bird, I open the door wider. Maybe the blasted bird flew into the sun porch. That had to be it. Maybe if I can close the sun porch door, the bird will be trapped out there and at least I can finish my final coat of poly in here. I venture across the slick floor, eyes on the door. And I'll be danged if, halfway across the room, the bird doesn't swoop down out of nowhere and flap up beside me again!

I race back to the safety of the birdless hall. Again, I wait at the door, peeking in every few seconds to see where the blasted bird is. I crack open the door, it's on the floor in the corner. I crack the door again, moments later, and it's perched on the window sill. I crack the door yet again, and it's on the ceiling fan. And then... oh, my friends... and then, I heard it:

Noooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo! 

The bird messed all over my scarcely-dry-but-still-needing-a-final-coat of poly floor!

You all. That was almost it for me. That was almost the moment I decided to move back to Dallas, get a condo, and resume my former life. There I was in my dirty jeans, my chia pet shirt, and my slippery socks... hair wild, arms sore, and half-high on poly fumes... and a bird had just messed all over my beautiful floor. It was just too much.

I'd Like You to Meet...

   

If you have a moment, I'd like to introduce you to the old place today. Everyone, meet Hedge House- a rambling, resolute old wooden house surrounded by lines of creeping shrubs.

When I first heard a neighbor refer to the place as the hedge house, I thought they were saying "The Edge House". I loved it. The house is nothing but edges and corners and angles. Its hallway juts out with a sharp-edged turn. This room in the north corner (pictured below) has a strange interior configuration of corners and edges. So I was a bit disappointed when I realized the place is, in fact, identified by its "hedges"... not "edges". Edge House sounded very Agatha Christie. Hedge House sounded very bland and nondescript. Hedge House. Maybe that's what it's known as, but I wasn't feeling it. It's why I hesitated for so long to introduce you two.

And then it happened. I was listening to this song recently- a song I've become attached to since seeing Audra play live in 2010- and suddenly remembered it was one of the first songs I ever played in this house. As in, I recall this music echoing through the empty rooms when I was alone here that first day. The song draws from Psalms 139, which says:

O Lord, You have searched me and known me.

You know my sitting down and my rising up;

You understand my thought afar off.

You comprehend my path and my lying down,

And You are acquainted with all my ways....

You have hedged me behind and before,

And laid Your hand upon me. 

 

You have hedged me... Hedge... You have hedged me behind and before... Hedge House. Suddenly, it all fit:

Hedge 

[hej]

noun

- A row of bushes or small trees planted close together

- Any barrier or boundary

verb (used with object), hedged, hedging

- To enclose or separate

- To surround and confine 

- To protect with qualifications that allow for unstated contingencies 

- To mitigate a possible loss by counterbalancing

Hedge House.

Maybe the house has been recognized by its untamed hedges for years, but I don't think that's why I ended up here, of all houses. I think it's because Hedge House has a purpose: to enclose, to surround, and to protect me and all who stay here. I think it's a physical representation of a spiritual reality. We are being hedged in, literally, in Hedge House.

You have hedged me behind and before...

It makes me tear up... and kinda give me chills... just to write it down for you. I recall how the years at Freeman House seemed, prophetically, almost, to revolve around just that: freedom. And it makes me wonder if my life at Hedge House will mimic the same, you know?

Anyway. Everyone, meet Hedge House. I'm excited to show you so much more in the coming days. There are even plans to open the place up and let folks stay in a suite and hang out, eat, and get acquainted. Wouldn't that be fun? I'd love for you to have the chance to fall for this place as much as I am.

Welcome to a new adventure, y'all. Welcome to Hedge House.  -Brin

More Floors

Ah, old houses. One of the great things about these old places? The original wood features: built ins, crown moldings, trim, and of course, hardwood floors. This home is no exception. Only, like most old houses, the floors have seen better days.

This floor is in the master bedroom, and it's definitely showing its age. Scratches, spills and stains have left their marks, and the overall feeling is worn and... dirty. But after seeing the dramatic restoration with the kitchen floors, I was ready to try to resurrect these, too. So Saturday, I rented a drum sander and got to work. After pulling out the old furnace grate and pulling up/pounding in umpteen nails and staples, we were ready to sand. And sand I did!

I am thrilled with the results! The surface scratches, paint spills, and discolorations are gone. The room smells of fresh wood and sawdust. And with a little hand sanding around the perimeter, I'll be ready to stain and seal.

New flooring in this house would have cost in the thousands. Instead, we're out less than $150 to breathe new life into these floors while respecting the original features of the home. I'll take that any day!

I'm hoping we'll be moving into the master on Sunday. *Fingers crossed*. So excited!  -Brin

Master Bedroom {DURING} Pics!

This master bedroom is coming along! While progress has been slow going and there are still several projects to tackle, I'm beginning to see an end in sight. Y'all. My air mattress will soon be a thing of the past! As soon as this room is finished, you're all invited over to beat the air out of that mattress with me, Office Space style. We'll also drink sweet tea and eat... something. It will be quite the party.

Ahem.

In the meantime, look! 

The dated, nicotine-stained mustard/cream colored paint is gone. Glory. We primed and painted it with Sherwin-Williams' Neutral Ground, which I am starting to crush hard on. It's soft and ethereal and muted without being too boring... i.e. the perfect backdrop color. At least for me. I have to admire you Bold Color People from the safe distance of my neutral quarters, you understand. Hee.

Anyway. Paint has gone up. All woodwork has been sanded, puttied, primed and repainted in Sherwin-Williams' Westhighland White. 

The old window unit is also noticeably absent. Here is was, before:

And now:

 So long, farewell, you old gross thing.

(Also, please see yesterday's post re: broken camera and cell phone pictures. Yeah. Sorry.)

Moving on. This weekend, we tackle the hardwoods and the cut-in-half window. But here's a general idea of where things stand now and what remains to be done:

So quite a bit still to tackle, but I can definitely see this calming, gorgeous space beginning to come together. What a respite it will be! 

Off to get ready to tackle that floor restoration. Whoa boy. Hope your weekend turns out more fun than mine! -Brin

Summer's Ghost

We know that in September, 

we will wander through the 

warm winds of summer's wreckage. 

We will welcome summer's ghost.
-Henry Rollins

Fall is out in the stores. I'm expecting, any moment now, to see pumpkins and leaf-strewn wreaths on front porches of houses I drive past. I love later summer/early autumn- its decay and moodiness and restlessness. Summer's is the only ghost I welcome.

I have Beef Stroganoff simmering on the stove and am half-heartedly mixing up leftover bits of cornbread and chunks of thick, white loaves for dressing. (Stuffing, if you're from up north?) Chicken and dressing will hit the freezer soon. I'm trying to make extras of meals and freeze them up for days I just don't want to cook. Which lately has been most days. Strange, seeing as how the kitchen sink just went in and we dreamed of home-cooked meals all summer. Very strange...

It seems I've hit a wall (early) with this renovation. Tonight will be night 93 on the air mattress and I think I'm just exhausted. He is adamant that the bed NOT be put together until the master bedroom is painted and floors are redone, so I toss and turn and toss and turn. I'm praying the bedroom is move-in-ready in a week. Y'all, I fear for life on planet Earth if I have to crawl off that thing many more mornings. How was this so much easier at 24 than it is at 36?

Ah. But there's progress in the kitchen! The countertops will be finished soon, so all that's left in this phase will be to paint and hardware the cabinets, tile a back splash, hang shelves and begin setting up. I'd show you, only right now it's a jumble of tools and pantry items and opened boxes of spices and a strange assortment of unpacked dishes. (Read: whatever was at the top of the dishes box is what's been unpacked and used.) The tentative "have company over" goal date of September 1 blew by without so much as an apology. It's okay. It's really okay. Those who matter, don't mind... and those who mind, don't matter. Right?

How are things with you? I feel as if it's been awhile since we talked. Drop me a comment or a Facebook message or email and let me know what's on your stove and what's going on at your house and how you're dealing with the ghost of summer. That's what we're here for, right?

I'm so glad we're friends. -Brin

Monday Brain

My Must-Do List this week is getting me down. Especially because I woke up with a monster awful sore throat and aches. Ain't nobody got time for that!

There's so much I want to say this week about the stock market, the deal with Iran, and what this fall has in store for us. It surprises people, I think, when they meet me and realize I'm not all gardens and homemade bread and refinished floors. I bore people to death with documentaries on Netflix and random YouTube videos. In real life, I'm a pretty intense person. (Or so I'm told.) As a former reporter, I live and breathe news. And stock market reports. And economic collapse blogs. And weather model forecasting. But here, none of that. Here, I'm sink-shining Brin with a long Must-Do List.

We're okay with that, right? 

I think of all the things I have to tackle this week, getting back into bread making is what I'm least dreading. Fresh bread! There's something everyone can agree on. My banana bread recipe is an old favorite on this blog. (You can find it here.) In addition to having some banana bread tucked in the freezer, I also want to have bread dough I can pull out and bake in a flash. Omgosh, have you seen that they came out with a NEW Artisan Bread in Five Minutes a Day?! I'm so excited. I have the first (old) copy and the master recipe for the Boule (the artisan free-form loaf) is my favorite, favorite bread ever. It's ridiculously easy, even if you don't bake.

So. The kitchen. We've had a brief hold up in there. It's me. I can't decide what to do with the countertops, so everything's come to a stand still. I'll show you tomorrow and maybe we can come up with something workable.

In the meantime, happy Monday! And happy back to school to all those headed back today. May God keep you all! -Brin

Liking

Houses are like people - 

some you like and some you don't like -

and once in a while there is one you love.

-L. M. Montgomery 

 

It's true: houses are like people. Some we adore and could live with- live in- forever.

Others we're happy to visit but glad to leave.

And yet others we'd just rather not go around at all. Houses are like people. And every now and again, you fall in love.

This house is really growing on me.

There's a hole in the ceiling above the dining room table. It was there when we bought the place, but I know from touring the house with the realtor that there was a gargantuan palm tree light fixture hanging there before. After spending hours online and at local flea markets, I got discouraged: the chandelier of my dreams is way out of my price range. Way out. We're talking seared duck on a corndog budget here. 

And then so serendipitously, a box appeared in the attic. Confirmed: the original dining room chandelier has been located! It was here all the time!

I took it out of the box yesterday and examined it closely. Was I in love? No. But could we do lunch every day? Definitely. There's a lot to like here! I'm pretty sure it will need to be rewired, though. And restored. The glass shade thingys are gone. (What are they called? It's escaped me.) It seems like some of the crystals are missing and/or broken, so I'll need to figure that out, too. But part of loving an old home is keeping what you can, so I am thrilled to keep and rehang this chandelier once again... even if it isn't the one I've dreamed of.

(The more I'm discovering about the original look of the place, the more I'm uncovering glass and mirrors. Lots of glass and mirrors. Glass knobs, glass-fronted cabinets, mirrors and windows. Glass, glass, sparkly glass. So it's becoming a theme.)

I'm off to get some buffing cream and then get to work. It will be fun to see how this old girl shines once again!

Enjoy your Thursday. -Brin

The Simple Human Gift

...What a rare and beautiful treasure

Is the simple human gift of joy.
-Giles Andreae

We can't lose it- this rare and simple human gift of joy. We can't. No matter what comes, no matter what we see, no matter what fills our newsfeeds or our sleepless nights, we can't lose joy.

I was thinking about this awhile ago while unpacking my dishes and stacking them in the built-in hutch in the dining room. (Some women loves shoes. Or lipsticks. Or purses. I'm a dishes girl. I have a mix of white dishes I use for every day, but I love my different sets. I think I have 7 different ones.) Setting a table, making dinner, inviting over friends... family... new faces... gives me joy. It's simple, but it's real. Joy. 

The news is beyond scary lately. It's only in the past few weeks that I've been thankful I'm not a reporter anymore. But the scarier the news gets, the more confident I become in a good God... an attentive God... and a God with purposes and promises that will all make sense in the end.

So I unpack my dishes and pray my prayers and keep on trusting. Trusting... and looking for moments of that simple human gift-- joy.

Don't forget about The House Helper Giveaway! -Brin

Persevering

The rewards for those who persevere 

far exceed the pain that must precede the victory.

-Ted Engstrom

So when I said that refinishing the floors in this lumbering, wooden house was bordering on in(sand)ity, I meant it. 

Look at that. Would you look at it? Y'all. I didn't think I would ever get all that grit and dust out of here! But slowly, it came out... and as it did, my sanity slowly returned. Ha. Yes. It returned, that is, until the day I realized that I had to hand stain each individual 9 inch piece of flooring. Thousands of squares. On all fours. With a sock. Why? Because the floor is actually a puzzle of 80+ year old red oak, hickory and pine, and it was laid as parquet in the front formal rooms of the house.

After the sanding and sweeping, this was my life for 2 1/2 days:

But I finished!

Just as I was wrapping up, my Dad came over to lend a helping hand. The first thing that caught his attention? The huge iron furnace grate installed right smack-dab in the center of the floor between the front room and the dining room. He pulled the grate, built in the resulting hole, and painstakingly patched the parquet flooring, one square at a time. The only (slight) problem was that the flooring available today is red oak, and it stained much differently than the 80+ year old mixed woods.

Ah well. I'm going to make it match if it's the last thing I do! You can see the patch, and an early stain attempt, here:

But oh! What a relief to get this floor nearly finished! Except for that patch- which I intend to complete this weekend- this place is looking better than she has in years.

My sister and I are headed to Dallas tomorrow, Lord willing, for drapes and kitchen countertops. That means the paper can come off the windows and the kitchen cabinets and sink can go in this weekend! There aren't enough exclamation points in the world for that!

Elsewhere around the place, the POD we parked out front to store all our furniture until the floors were done was hauled off today. I was so excited I jumped up and down. It's feeling more like a home (instead of a construction site) every day. 

I've decided that once we're up and running, I want to host classes here and open up a few rooms for overnight class guests. Knitting, bread baking, beginning beekeeping, herb gardening, and sewing are just a few of the classes I want to offer. Wouldn't that be fun? I think about it all throughout the day. It makes me smile.

So does having all the sand out of here!

Don't miss the House Helper giveaway tomorrow! See you back here then. -Brin

The Insan(d)ity Of It All

I swore I would never do this again. Never, ever, I said. Do you remember it?

We discussed it, fleetingly, a dozen or so times: should we re-do the hardwood floors now, or wait? I'd settled firmly in the WAIT camp; others were for going ahead. You have no idea what a nightmare the process is, I told him. Nightmare.

He made the executive decision to go ahead, so we did. It is easier, after all, to get it done before the furniture crowds the place. So the sanding commenced.

First, we had to remove four layers of linoleum in the kitchen floor. And then, glue. Glue everywhere. We scraped and sanded and scraped and sanded. We used shovels and scrapers and fingernails and hammers and drum sanders and hand sanders...

On Sunday, I stood in the dining room, tears streaming down my dusty face, and yelled for 10 straight minutes that I hated every minute of it. Hated it. I think I said the word "hate" 200 times. I was so angry and dirty and tired. It wasn't pretty, you guys.

Two and a half days into the process, someone's stomach got upset and he retired to the air mattress for the day while I hand-stained, on hands and knees, the entire floor. The next day, when he returned to work, I began sealing it. And look! Look at that same kitchen floor now:

Unbelievable. I still look at these pictures in amazement. Hard to believe those original hardwoods were under there the entire time... and in such good condition!

I applied four coats of polyurethane to the three large rooms and prayed (Tuesday) that it would be enough. Now that the obligatory 24 hour dry time is up, it's obvious that four coats won't be enough for the parquet floors in the front and the dining room. Y'all. Instead of moving in these rooms this weekend, it looks as if we'll still be applying poly and waiting for it to dry. I'm disappointed, but determined to keep my chin up.

In light of the news, I feel such an urgency to get this place liveable. Such an urgency. But it will get done, and it will be worth it, the insan(d)ity of it all. Won't it? Please nod. Yes. Yes, it will.

We'll get through this, y'all. We will. We're all going to get through this.

Hang in, and happy July 4th. May God's mercy triumph over His judgment in America this Independence Day. -Brin

The Study

A good library will never be too neat, or too dusty, 

because somebody will always be in it, taking books off the shelves

and staying up late reading them.

-Lemony Snicket, Horseradish

Works continues, morning and evening. It never stops. I don't either, usually, until late evening, when all I want to do is take a cold shower to knock off the dirt and grime and sweat before falling between cool sheets and sleeping beside the roar of a fan.

Ah, summer in Texas in an old house.

Big progress has been made this week in the Study, where dark, moody, gray/green paint has been rolled onto walls and woodwork has been sanded. (The picture above is after the paint but just before the sanding.) It's a race to get it all done before we bring in the giant floor sanders this weekend and prepare for the floor-to-ceiling bookcase. I can't wait.

I told a friend yesterday that, in lieu of a vacation, all I want to do this summer is read. Just... read. Curl up in a huge chair with a glass of something cold and read until it's too dark to see. I want to stay in this new room and take books off shelves until late. I want to be the somebody that's in it and messing it up and keeping the dust away. Summer for me, as a child, always meant a few things: endless reading, ice cream or fresh melon, and the sound of cicadas. And the occasional trip to the lake to swim. My hope is that after the Fourth of July weekend, the house will be ready "enough" for us to move in some furniture and let the reading and ice cream and listening to the cicadas' song begin.

It's a lofty goal, but we're getting there.

In the meantime, I've started making decisions about the kitchen and rolling Westhighland White by Sherwin-Williams on the walls. It looks so much more clean and airy in there now. After the floor is sanded and sealed this weekend, it'll be time for base cabinets, a sink, and the appliances. It can't come soon enough! 

Speaking of decisions, I've been thinking about finding glass cabinet pulls for the drawers and doors to match the originals that survived elsewhere in the house. Every single door here has the original glass knob and skeleton key locks. The hutch has its original glass pulls. So does the bathroom cabinet. The hardware on the cabinets we had to replace weren't original; someone had attached cheap, retro-looking pulls at some point. They weren't worth saving. So... glass again? I'm thinking it over....

So there's a quick update and here's a promise: once things calm down next week, we'll go back and go over this, slowly, and tell more stories.

Until then, happy start to your summer! -Brin

The Stone Path

Still round the corner there may wait
A new road or a secret gate
And though I oft have passed them by
A day will come at last when I
Shall take the hidden paths that run
West of the Moon, East of the Sun.

-J. R. R. Tolkien

We have discovered a stone path.

It seems obvious now, being cleared and all. But two weeks ago it wasn't. I was headed back to the house from the little shop when suddenly, I saw them: the corners of two square stones, touching as if they meant to. I thought it was odd... why would there be two half-sunk stones in the middle of a yard?

Ah. But there weren't just two, there were hundreds. The path is cleared now. How long has it been, I wonder, since it last was?

My sister came for a visit yesterday and was astonished to see it. When did y'all have the time to lay this? she asked. I smiled. We walked it from the corner of the shop all the way to the steps of the long, glassed-in sun room and inside.

I have plans for three small gardens here: an ivy + rose garden with a gazebo on the north side, a vegetable garden on the east/south, and herbs and trailing things in beds and corners all around. This past weekend, some chives, mint, sage and homemade butter-colored lantanas went into the ground next to the steps off the path. They're flanked by butterfly bushes. I'll wait and see how they fill in and then edit from there.

As you may have heard, Tropical Storm Bill is lumbering through. It's raining now- hard- onto ground that was at saturation point weeks ago. This is stranger than any summer I remember. After the rain clears and the heat lets up, we will begin garden plans in earnest.

Until then, we wait.

I'm painting the library/study today and am so wishing it was already done so I could curl up in there and read until dozing off. For now, the lamp light is cozy and rain drums at the windows...

From my rain-soaked path to you, take care today.  -Brin

The Front Room and the Dining Room ... and This House Hates Paint

As promised, some pictures.

(Hello. Hello there, you. Doing well? Hope so.)

I won't show you the "before" of the Front Room yet. Maybe ever. I don't know. There's something about the picture that troubles me in a way I can't put my finger on. Most of the time, the glory of home renovation is showing the pathetic "before" and dramatically unveiling the "after". I think, instead, I will show you a Then and a Now. How's that for a beginning?

So here we are. The Then. This is standing in the Dining Room and looking into the Front Room. Notice, if you will, the original oak parquet floors. The built in hutch in the corner of the Dining Room. The massive, multi-paned windows that leak in sunlight and, at night, a hazy glow from the old gas-turned-electric street lamp out front. Notice, too, the definitive 10 foot, 5 inch ceilings and the tall baseboards with bottom trim removed. And I suppose you can't help but notice the GE Artistry stove still in its box awaiting its turn to be part of the kitchen renovation.

Much more on that later.

Now, here we are in the Front Room, looking north toward the old fireplace and the 6-foot tall, thick-as-winter-lake-ice mirror:

The whole place has had to be coated with a thick glossing of Kilz. As in, we're 12 gallons in so far. The previous owners smoked. By smoked, I don't mean they lit one after dinner and walked the house, trailing ash. I mean, they didn't have jobs and did nothing but sit inside and light up, pack after pack. (This is via the neighbor, Miss Nelle. I have to introduce you to her soon.) The first week, all I did was wash: walls, floors, windows, bathrooms. I mixed vinegar and Dawn and watched the nicotine come down in heavy brown streaks. The gunk coated every knob, every floor board, every ceiling fan pull, every window. We haven't moved in hardly any furniture yet, and what we have moved in is mostly boxed or shrouded in plastic. 

But anyway. The Front Room. Here's a closer-up of the the woodwork, the built-ins with the two shelves that refused to budge, and the mirror, all taped up and ready to paint:

 

And let's talk a moment about paint. Oh yes. Let's.

You know how one usually picks paint? You see a color you like (maybe on Pinterest or in a magazine or on a movie or a friend's house), you find a paint swatch or the paint's name, and you go to the store and have it mixed and come home and paint your walls and enjoy it for years.

Ha. Yes. No.

This house HATES paint. It tries to turn everything putty gray. Or purple. Must be the light?

Here are the paint colors I tried:

Revere Pewter (too dark)

Eider White (too pink?)

Glacier White (too stark)

Big Chill (too chilly)

Accessible Beige (really? too blah)

and finally, Incredible White, which I bought 5 gallons of, left with the guys who were painting, and went to the landfill to single-handedly unload a truck load full of disgusting-ness left in the home when we got the key, only to return 3 hours later to find the walls painted VIOLET.

Incredible White? Incredible lavender, more like it. I ran back to Sherwin Williams and grabbed Neutral Ground and ran it back to the painters and swore that even if it came out electric pink, it was staying on the walls because I coudn't spend a single dollar more on paint for the house to reject.

  

So. The trim and woodwork are painted Westhighland White, and the walls are painted Neutral Ground by Sherwin Williams. So far I love the way the paint looks in the Dining Room when the newly-wired lights are on. During the day with only natural light, it still looks a little pinkish/gray putty to me. But it's staying up. Once furniture, rugs, books, pictures, flowers, and dogs are in the room, it's going to look just right. It will. It just will. Here it is (sort of), as it stands now. Except now I've Kilz'd that awful mosaic thing in front of the fireplace opening on the floor until we can get around to tiling it. Looking forward to that!

Next on the list is the floors. We're going to refinish them in the front three rooms this weekend. They are coated with a film of nicotine, and they were heavily scratched when the folks moved out. More on floor refinishing this week!

So there's a quick run around the front two spaces. Please forgive my mood. I just opened a can of Tea Chest paint to paint the study, and guess what? The house HATES it.

As soon as I put on my shoes, I'm headed back to Sherwin Williams. They seriously know me there now.

Comments? Suggestions? I'm all ears! -Brin