Green acres is the place for me....

The Front Garden
Originally uploaded by simpleelementsdesign

I was at lunch the other day with a friend, her mother and a friend of her mother. My friend was explaining to the other ladies my adventures of living on the family farm. She finds my life most amusing. Looking back, it was.

When we first moved here, thirteen years ago, the house was scary. My mother-in-law sat on the back steps and sobbed that her grandsons would be living in a slum. Mind you, my mother-in-law had played landlord for fifty years for the place and hadn't thought to keep tabs on it so that too, made her cry. We laugh about that now. The house had NO electrical outlets on the second floor and a grand total of FIVE in the house. Two were in the kitchen, two in the living room and one in the downstairs bedroom. Please note, NONE in the bathroom. Hello, I have curly hair and my flat iron is my best friend. Within several weeks of moving in, the house had been totally rewired and the house thankfully had outlets everywhere. Oh and switches, too! No more pulling the chain to get the lights on. I think the reason it was done so quickly was because hubby was tired of me calling him at work, singing him the "Green Acres" theme song whenever there was a problem. And there were lots of them.

Being an interior design major in college, I kept waiting to make the house cute. But of course, I had to put up with the electrical issues, plumbing issues, a new furnace and new roof. I kept asking "When do I do cute?" No one, and I mean no one - okay, maybe guys - wants to see a new furnace or electrical box (did I mention they are located in a creepy basement that causes hubby and I to do rock, paper, scissors to determine who goes down there?). Finally, after three years I got to do cute. It was then I learned the old saying "Be careful what you wish for."

We found a contractor who liked working on old houses to do our kitchen remodel. The guy and I bumped heads from day one. His vision wasn't my vision and he didn't like it. He showed up to demo the place and then didn't return for days. This saga went on for months until he finally just never showed up again. We were living with our "kitchen" in the dining room and our only sink was a tiny one in the bathroom or the big claw foot tub. We ate out just once a week and the rest of the time, I cooked using hot plates, electric skillets and a microwave. Looking back, I don't know how I did it without losing my sanity. I finally took over the job and got the walls done and painted (and let me give a shout out to the local paint store who failed to tell me that a tinted primer would be best for the color red I used. Yep, six coats of paint later and I got the color I wanted) and the floor laid. During my tenure as contractor, I found a valuable resource in a fellow old house dweller who worked at the local hardware. I would walk in and look for him and describe my predicament in my own unique language - this do-hickey does this and the thingamajig does that - and he knew what I meant. Finally, after nine long months - the kitchen was done. I was so happy, I actually sent out birth announcements.

Just like childbirth, one forgets the pain and trauma involved in remodeling and you decide to do it again. This time, it was the back porch. The open, gaping hole that allowed critters to visit was the determining factor for that job. I thought this job would be easy without the impact on us that the kitchen had presented. The porch would finally allow me to have the washer and dryer in the house. No more driving to the next town to the laundry. Yeah, right. Needless to say, the porch was finished - no washer and dryer because of something called pitch (maybe because of the fit I pitched upon learning of the news)- and the contractor took it upon himself to finish the ceiling without talking with me. Starbursts weren't not discussed. Nothing was done as I had envisioned.

The third time was the charm. We tackled the only bathroom we had. We found a contractor who understood me and was adorable. That helped to make the whole ordeal more pleasant. I had the support of friends who would show up regularly to watch him work. Their nickname for him, Eye Candy. He understood the one rule during this whole process - there must be a working toilet at night. Unlike the males here, I refused to do my business outside. The same friends who came over to offer "support", opened up their bathrooms to us so we could shower. The contractor even found a way to put in a tiny laundry area in the tiny bathroom. He was my hero. He even understood hubby's desire to save the huge, heavy cast iron tub (which now is fondly referred to as my West Virginia garden and resides on the patio). He and his workers would laugh at my sagas of previous remodels. They called me "Laura Ingells" and would laugh that their wives/girlfriends wouldn't put up with the things I had. (Another class I missed along the way - along with nagging, creating honey do lists, etc)

These are just a few of the adventures I have had living in an old house. I haven't touched on the frozen pipes, the art of the shim or the creative uses of newspaper for insulation that I have dealt with. Those are for another day.

As trying as it has all been, green acres is the place for me.

My Barn

I love barns. I have had a life long fascination with them. I remember telling my mother I was going to live in one when I grew up. I didn't achieve that goal but I do have one in the backyard. I think she is special.

She was built by my husband's ancestors around 1817. The barn is entirely pegged and has tree trunks for posts. The first floor has stalls that over the years served cows and then horses. Now it is often filled with the laughter of teenagers.

The exterior is sided in walnut that no doubt was found on the property. My father-in-law thinks I should paint her but I love the worn color she is. There is a quiet elegance to it. I just don't think she'd look the same painted red or white.

The barn serves as storage for the large collection of two wheeled vehicles (bicycles and two motorcycles) that my husband is so fond of. He often jokes that a bike shop might be nice in the shed end of the barn.

The second floor of the barn is special. It is the sanctuary for my sons and their many friends. Living in an affluent town, the barn is something most kids don't have and the boys love that. They are picky about who is welcome. Only a select group has access to it - something else they love. In the summer, you can hear the laughter emanating from the open doors of the second floor. It has served as a concert venue (for shows aptly called Night in the Loft), a theatre (thanks to the projector) and club house. It will be bittersweet this summer to see many of them scatter, leaving the barn just a bit lonely.

I can't help but think that the ancestors would appreciate the fact their hard work is still being appreciated after all these years.

Spring Fever!!!!!

I give up. The ground has been white everyday of 2010. I no longer love snow. Yes, I'll forget this come November (if I am lucky), when I see the first snow fall of the season but right now, I'm ending the love affair. I want color outside. I want flowers and birds singing. I want to put away my big bulky boots and coat for something more fashionable. I am tired of being in a bad mood because I have to shovel the driveway to get out. I feel bad for the poor dog who can't go out into the yard because the snow is too high. I don't want to have to worry about my husband shoveling the roof so we don't have water coming into the house. I have been a good sport. I put up with not having heat on two different occasions for a total of fourteen days. I endured (the family motto thanks to ancestor Sir Ernest Shackleton) but enough is enough. Mother Nature could you please jump ahead to more spring like weather? Pretty please....

The Tendril

I often have people ask me about my avatar/logo - the tendril. A lot of people think you should show your wares in your avatar so that helps promote them. I view my avatar more as a logo - something that doesn't change and can be easily recognized as me.

I came upon the tendril for several reasons. First of all, it reminds me of wire wrapping, something I enjoy to do in my work. Secondly, it looks like a c which is what my name starts with. And lastly, it has to deal with gardening. I love how tiny tendrils of the sweet pea will latch on to the trellis I have in my kitchen garden. They look so delicate but are so strong. So there you have it, the mystery of the avatar solved.

Cleveland Handmade Giveway

Follow the directions to win a beautiful straw flower madala from Playnature.
http://www.clevelandhandmade.com/2010/02/straw-flower-mandala-print-by-playnature/

Libby

Rose Garden-Late June
Originally uploaded by simpleelementsdesign

I lost a dear friend the other day. Her death was like a punch in the gut. It is hard to imagine the world without her.

She was a friend of my mother's. I grew up thinking she was the most elegant woman I had ever seen. I wanted to be her when I grew up. When I grew up, I still wanted to be her. She was a joyful person. She loved tending her gardens and her business. Her family was everything to her and it included people that weren't related by blood. She was an incredible hostess, chef, and gardner and would have put Martha Stewart to shame.

When I became an adult, our friendship really began. I was married in the herb garden of her home. When we moved away, I would return to her business to buy plants for my gardens. I loved having a bit of her here. She came to visit several years ago. She was in awe of the gardens and work we had done to fix up our old house. She wandered about commenting that my mother would have loved this place. That was something else about her, she would often mention my mother who had died while in her fifties. Those comments were gifts to me. A way to keep her alive to me. It saddens me to know I have lost that.

A year and a half ago, I sent her an email telling her I had finally started my own jewelry business and sent her the web address. Her reply back floored me. She invited me to participate in her yearly Herb Fair as a vendor. The event was three weeks away. The fair averages around 3,000 visitors. I didn't have the inventory but didn't want to tell her no. So, I jumped off the cliff and said yes. I worked constantly making items for it. A friend helped me with my display and we headed off to the fair. She was there to greet me and show me my spot. She approved of the display, especially the chairs that we had put outside the tent so people could sit and enjoy the gardens and ponder their jewelry purchases. She would stop in from time to time to check up on me always with a big grin on her face. At the end of the day, I was amazed at how well I had done. For just starting out, it was a bit overwhelming to realize that people did like my work. When I went to say goodbye and thank you to her, I got choked up. I told her that her faith and support in me was such a gift. She just chuckled and gave me a hug and told me to remember she was my biggest cheerleader.

She was an extraordinary woman who had such an impact on my life. I am grateful that come spring and summer, I can gaze upon the gardens filled with plants from her and remember the woman who was such a huge influence on me. I was so blessed to have Libby in my life.

The Worst Winter Weather in the Nation

I can proudly say I live in the area that was recently anointed "The Worst Winter Weather City in the Nation". Thanks to our proximity to the beautiful lake known as Erie, we get more snow than anyone. That according to Forbes magazine is a bad thing. I like to think otherwise.

Just this past weekend, a large portion of the nation was hit by a huge snowstorm. The grocery stores were out of bread and milk. Cities came to a stand still. The national news covered it as their lead story. Those of us who reside in the Snow Belt chuckled as we watched these people freak out over their situation. To us, that is any given day when the snow flies.

Living with the worst winter in the nation affords us the opportunity to nest. We hunker down in our homes and recharge our batteries after the chaotic holiday season. We tend to projects inside the house because we know once spring comes, we will be outside. We dream of plans for the gardens or read that book we have been dying to pick up. For those of us with artistic abilities, we create. Living in a snow globe has its benefits. Any kid who learns they have a snow day will verify that.