Daily Trivia

The weather has not been pretty.

We have scurried out to feed Pebbles, barn kittens in attendance.

We bring in wood for the fireplace and furnace.

Yesterday morning there were errands in town.

While I tended to banking J. had the welcome idea of going into the adjacent cafe and ordering hot drinks--coffee with an exotic name for him and a green tea with honey for me.

I cradled the carry-out container in my hands--too hot to drink except for a cautious sip until we got home.

On Tuesday afternoon I [finally] painted the hallway in the pale cream-yellow that I chose for the adjacent kitchen and dining area.

J. fetched a step ladder for me and I clambered up and down in the narrow space, taping off four doorways, carefully cutting in paint along the ceiling.

From the basement came the sound of the air compressor and the power saw as J. continued work on the "family room" putting the last touches on a huge closet, doing the fiddly work of boxing in the exposed heating ducts.

 My satisfaction at the improvements didn't stave off yesterday's over-whelming sense of aches and chills [stamina has become an issue] and upon returning from town I felt justified in retreating for a while to the big chair by the fireplace, losing myself in a mystery.

This morning grey light crept through the bedroom shutters.

Icey rain pelted down and a dirty fog swirled up from the creek beyond the road.

All day the drizzle has continued with the light of noon scarcely different than that at breakfast time.

I put on my boots and squelched about, taking out vegetable peelings, visiting Pebbles.

I came in, aired out, to make a hearty beef-vegetable soup to serve with  a crisp coleslaw from one of the last of our garden-grown cabbages.

By 4 o'clock the wet grey dusk had settled like a damp blanket.

Sleet clings to the nandina.

The barn kittens are undaunted by the weather.  They trundle between the barn and the carport.

Willis, who knows how to charm.

Pawing through a dresser drawer on a quest for my winter hats I found the folk-art ornaments which were a gift from our daughter and her family many Christmases ago.

Along with a fat lemon-scented candle, a blooming ceramic feline and one carved in wood, they now decorate this shelf in the newly painted bathroom.

[But I haven't located my hats!]

Innocent felines.

J. has torn up the horrible carpet on the basement stairs today and replaced it with sleek pre-finished hardwood which matches that in the hallway.

The cats have viewed this process with various degrees of misgiving.

After J. put his tools down for the night we stood at the top of the staircase admiring the improvement and laughing at the cats who were wary of the new footing.

Teasel eventually led out, stepping gingerly on the very edge of each stair.

The Risks of Renovating

New medicine cabinet, light fixture and towel ring.

Clicking to enlarge the photo will show some of the flaws we are trying to work around.

The "tape" in the corner join of the two walls hadn't been applied smoothly or securely. This is rather surprising as the walls in the rest of the house are smooth and properly finished.

Short of cutting out a sizeable section of sheetrock and replacing--with the considerable mess that would entail--J. hoped that the troweled plaster technique would disguise the flaws rather more than it did.

He has done some growling about trying to make poor workmanship look better.

Work on the bathroom continued today.

We are having mixed feelings about the progress. 

When I stripped off the heavy vinyl wallpaper I decided it must have been original to the 30 year old house.

It had been applied before any of the "woodwork" was installed and thus the edges of the paper were stuck beneath the door and window moldings and under the edges of the built-in cubbies. This made for a removal that wasn't as clean as I would like.  In some spots I used a razor to trim the paper as close to the moldings as possible.

Yesterday J. discovered that the opening had been cut incorrectly for the existing medicine cabinet and then rather clumsily filled in with bits of wood and sheetrock.

The circular hole cut to accomodate the light fixture had been made too large as well as lop-sided---and these flaws masked by the heavy wallpaper!

I tried two different camera settings attempting to get a true representation of the paint color, "Fireweed."

We have several partial gallons of paint left from the painting in other parts of the house and wanted to be frugal rather than choose another color.

I dithered over the "safe" option of painting the walls in "Oatlands Yellow" [from the basement room]

or  "Kashmir Beige" [the soft sandy peach from the master bedroom.]

Having lived very conservatively, paintwise, for years, we decided to be daring and have vivid bathroom walls.  Errr--we're not sure yet if this is quite the effect we were expecting!  The deep color may have made the flaws in the wall more obvious.

We don't intend replacing the sturdy white cabinetry; I changed the worn brassy hardware for shiny chrome-look pulls.  The basin and countertop are on the list for upgrading.

The interior finish of the bathtub is worn, but it is certain that the tub had to have been put in place before the partitions were built.  No way are we going to gut the entire space to replace the tub!

I suspect that in a decade or more of building [and living in] custom homes we have gotten very particular.

We think that as we work through the down-sizing, and the months of renovating draw to a finish,

we'll be satisfied.

Oh, I'll surely yearn for my big walk-in closets and my roomy pantries which were features of those other houses.

There is security in knowing that we own this little cottage, these 28 fertile green acreas, without a mortgage.

There is space enough for the two of us and our feline companions.

Each improvement that we make here, both indoors and out, gives a sense of accomplishment.

We'll live with the "fireweed" paint for the winter.  If our eyes don't become accustomed

to this swath of color, there's always another can of paint!

Projects for a Rainy Day

Monday morning I made a hearty meat and potato sort of breakfast and hurried through kitchen tidying as I had an appointment in town.

J. was awaiting the arrival of a friend [from Illinois] who used to visit in Wyoming.

I returned to find  J. and Rick downstairs discussing the finer points of the "family room" renovation.

They had already made a tour of the acreage and the two old barns, examined and pronounced on the tractor and haying equipment.

When I could get in a word I asked R. if we could offer anything to eat.

It turned out he had left Tennessee at 5 in the morning and not stopped for a meal.

J. hauled the turkey carcass from the fridge and set about slicing light and dark meat, toasting whole wheat bread, while I sliced tomato, onion and shredded a bit of cabbage.

Thus fortified by thick sandwiches we set out in the car to show Rick a bit of Adair County.

By the time we returned dark clouds were gathering.

Dusk came early and brought with it the rain.

The sight of trees swaying in the wind and rain pelting down the glass of the dining room door made me feel that comfort food was in order for supper.

Rick had voiced the hope that we might have fruit with the meal.

I made a batch of fluffy pecan waffles, served with our home made butter and

Vermont maple syrup. From our winter stash I opened a jar of pink applesauce and a jar of pears.

It was a heartening and homey repast, and I'm happy to note that our home-canned fruit is delicious.

Rick took his leave for home this morning after which I mentioned to J. that it looked a perfect day to change out the light fixtures.

[I suggested this in a very off-hand way as I have previously dropped several hints and the resident builder didn't feel the timing was right.]

I retreated to the basement to deal with laundry and upon returning upstairs was agreeably surprised to find

that J. had brought in the boxes of light fixtures and was assembling tools.

The ceiling fixtures in the house were all functioning but very dated.

The two in the kitchen/dining area dangled lop-sidedly on drop chains and during our March move-in had clunked the three tall Whitehurst men repeatedly until our son [the tallest at 6'3"] had hoisted them nearer the ceiling.

I felt that plain, clean-lined fixtures would be in keeping with the small, simple house, as well as being economical.  With that in mind, we chose some with gleaming stainless steel look trim, which matches the electical plug covers we installed in the remodeled kitchen area.

We need to buy some of the energy-efficient spiral bulbs next trip into town.

I'm pleased with the effect of our choices.

It has been two months since [in J's absence] I yanked wall paper off the bathroom walls and managed to trowel on a base coat of dry wall patch.

J. decided that the bathroom lights couldn't be installed without first completing the "mudding" of the walls.

This also meant pulling out a rather hideous mirrored "medicine cabinet."

I heard the screeching of nails, mutterings, the whine of a small power saw.

Poking my head around the door I asked if all was going well.

"Oh," said J. resignedly, "About what I should have expected.  Whoever put in this cabinet hill-billy rigged it!"

J. is using the "rough-plastered" technique which he perfected for the drywall bits in the log houses he built in Wyoming.

It has a rustic texture and means far less finish sanding--therefore less choking dust.

I'm not sure if I will be allowed to paint the small room or if I must meekly occupy myself elsewhere.

My own creative effort of the day was to dismember the roast turkey, closely supervised by

Raisin the Cat.

I produced a kettle of savory soup, adding a qt of home-canned tomatoes.

A nice slab of white meat has been frozen and the barn kittens treated to a plate of tidbits to keep up their strength during this dreary weather.

Old Grey Mare

J. slicing up lengths of carpet and backing ready to start laying down the pre-finished hardwood laminate we chose for flooring.  The living room has been in total disruption which distresses the cats. Bumbling about in the dark is not a good idea just now--unless one wants to walk smack into a stray bookcase or trip over a displaced chair.

J. no sooner started on the flooring project than we realized that frantic bird noises were issuing from the "column" at the end of the side porch.  A phoebe was determined to build a nest there in spite of my having made discouraging swipes with a broom.

Idiot bird fell down inside the hollow pillar.  J. jacked up the porch roof, removed the plate that partially covered the top of the column and the bird hastily exited.  It hasn't been back to resume nest building.

Meanwhile J. is tsk-tsking over the lack of sturdiness in the so-called column. The other end of the porch is supported by masonry.

Paint sample cards fascinate me and I collect them by the handful from building supply places.  So many tints and shades of every possible color--and such imaginative names.

I'm in process of painting the kitchen/dining area in the one labeled "homey cream."

J. painted an accent wall in the living room in the Laura Ashley Russet # 6.  [I was meant to be painting it, but he decided to "cut in" the edge of the ceiling for me, then I think he was enjoying spreading the color.]

The one quart we bought didn't cover the entire wall, so back to Lowes on Sunday for another qt.

J. took an alternate route to drive there [Campbellsville, the next town] and we enjoyed the beautiful spring scenery.

The order of nursery stock was delivered just after lunch today.

Paint rollers and flooring tools were set aside and we spent several hours in the garden.

My job was to sort the fruit trees and berry canes by varieties, lay them out by the appropriate holes and then hold the scrawny things in place while J. tenderly shoveled dirt around them.

This was overseen by Pebbles.  J. moved her pasture up past the old apple trees and set the electric fence to take in the lean-to portion of the nearer barn.

Pebbles stomped back and forth fussing for a good part of the day.  We think she is missing hob-nobbing over the fence with the cattle who are pastured on the adjoining farm. She is now too far removed from them to have neighborly chats.

As I have urged myself to keep up with the "things to do" list, as I have realized that I can no longer manage to paint spaces that are above my head, cannot in fact, get as much accomplished as I once did, I've found myself humming an old ditty.  Doleful words set to a jigging sort of tune.

The old grey mare she ain't what she used to be,

Ain't what she used to be,

Ain't what she used to be.

The old grey mare she ain't what she used to be, many long years ago.

It goes on--but you get the picture!

All fruit trees planted;  about six dozen berry canes in.

J. "turned" the space I requested for shrub roses and perennials and several extra strips for tomatoes and such.  In the morning we'll put in strawberry plants and my red "knock-out" roses.

 Meanwhile I creak and groan--and try not to recall that I decided in a moment of enthusiasm to paint all the bedroom woodwork in a lovely color called "Cinnamon Swirl."  The gallon of paint awaits my pleasure.

A Bit Warmer

Bare cottonwoods lean into the blue sky.

Deer have trudged around the yard leaving their hoof prints.

The snow is so deep that each movement of the deer's hooves leaves a trail of shuffled snow.

Three trails like perfect strings of pearls lead into the center of a greasewood shrub.

A closeup of these delicate footprints. Is this where mice have scuttled through the snow?  Whatever creature walked here disturbed only a topmost layer of the light dry crystals.

I hasn't snowed for several days, but in the nearly windless cold, snow is caught on horizontal branches.

A woodpecker or flicker's boring in the battered trunk of a cottonwood.

A stand of dried weed [sorrel?] is dark red in the afternoon light. Note each slender shadow.

The gift paperwhites have stretched quickly and have opened fragrant blossoms.

The ones planted earlier have gone floppy and are tied up with a torn length of fabric.  There are a few sluggards in that container--alive and growing but stunted and reluctant to flower.

Work continues in the attic/loft and sun strikes through the window onto the dedicated carpenter!

A cat pile on an old quilt. Lt. to rt. Eggnog, Chester, Jemima.

The cold blue light of January reflects off snow and lends its tint to indoor spaces.

"Mama's Darling!"

The cats don't like the noise of J.'s power tools, so the bedroom and my sitting room have been retreats today. 

Why Is It Always Charlie?

Charlie gazes out from his favorite cardboard box. He has another which can be placed upside down and has a rounded "entrance."  If he goes in that one head first he thinks he is invisible--never mind that his fluffy plume of a tail and plump backside may be in view.

J. went to the the lumberyard yesterday for sheets of plywood to put down as subflooring in the attic space which is becoming a bedroom and bath.  Rather than carry the sheets through the house and maneuver them up the narrow new stairway he started the Sky Trak and used the lift to hoist the plywood to the recently installed gable end window where it could be handed through.  Grandson D. came down to help move the plywood, while I finished making lunch. Suddenly, over the grumble of the tractor outside, there was a crash.  I paid it little mind, thinking a sheet of plywood had landed a bit askew on the attic floor.

D. came in, headed in here and said, "Oh, Oh, somebody made a mess!"

I blamed Charlie, then felt guilty as I hadn't seen him dump the plant.

D. reported that Charlie had been watching intently through the window while the plywood was raised and unloaded from the lift.

"We heard a crash inside the room and then Charlie Disappeared" he added.

In the process of crashing the geranium, Charlie managed to overturn the water pot I keep under the bench to fill my steam iron.  Water puddled through scattered soil and around the smooth rocks I use to discourage the cats from pawing at the soil in plant containers. I hastily set the plant back in the dirt while we fetched a rag to mop up with, the broom and dustpan, and finally the vac. A stalk of the plant was broken, so I added it to the jar in which I am rooting similar "slips."

This is the same variety of  Robin Hood geranium as the one which was overturned.  The first of these plants was given to me more than 20 years ago by an elderly lady who had bought the variety decades earlier at the annual spring Flower Show in Boston, Massachusetts.  I treasure it because of my association with her, and because it is an interesting plant, always in flower. It has to be cut back frequently or it goes spindly.  Thus over the years, I've had many offspring to give away and enough rooted cuttings to be sure that I have several of these cheerful things thriving.

Charlie, who usually craves attention, was notably missing during the clean up process. After lunch I looked for him and found him cuddled under the bed with his daughter, Jemima.

As the afternoon grew colder, J. and D. prepared to move the Sky Trak back nearer to the garage--where the block heater can be plugged in for a few hours prior to starting it in the cold.

As the Sky Trak roared to life, Charlie emerged from under the bed, not being one to miss what goes on.

Charlie watches from the bedroom window.  No plants here on the sill.

Charlie inspires exasperation almost daily.  He is an affectionate extrovert, a meddler, not very bright.

[Although he did catch a mouse!]

The sun, which had been elusive all day, sank behind the foothills in a brief flare of pale gold, and our corner of the world huddled into another cold moonlit night.