Pretty, Happy, Funny, Real on Wise Road

Pretty

Against all odds, I installed shelves in the kitchen. They are "crafted" from "reclaimed" "barn-wood." That sounds so Pinterest-worthy, urban homesteading sophisticated, right? But don't get too excited. Note the sarcasti-quotes. When I say "reclaimed" I mean "pried from the walls with a crowbar and scraped down with a shovel to get rid of the hornets nests." And when I say "barn" I mean "the old shed covered in corrugated iron where we keep the tractor lawnmower." (We don't have a tractor, much to my husband's chagrin. If we DID have a tractor it wouldn't fit in the "barn.") Livin' the dream.

But still. The wood, once I sanded it down and oiled it was...pretty! And after a trip to Home Depot to pick up some metal brackets, we have some nearly free shelves. And they are (once again) pretty, yes?

Happy

The happiest thing about Wise Road is the evening. The light is gorgeous, slanting in, everything turns gold, even the long weeds grass that we didn't get around to mowing (again).

We are trying to take advantage of the lovely spring weather and (relative) absence of bugs by enjoying the following outdoor activities: mowing, making campfires, mowing, eating s'mores, mowing, eating dinner outside, and mowing. Hattie and Hugo are entranced by my fire-building skilz.

Hugo would not relinquish this smashed marshmallow, even to eat it.

Devin rigged up this old (what the heck IS is?) pallet thingy that someone used to keep firewood on...or something...so now we have a table outside, which has improved our life by approximately 28%.

And I am finally getting the hang of getting meals prepared out here, thanks, in part, to a working stove and a trip to Ikea. Mealtime has gotten a bit more civilized.

Of course i this picture you can't see the plastic silverware or the power tools which were also on the table. Never ignore what is just outside of the frame!

Funny

With all the reclaiming of barn-wood and sewing of curtains (stay tuned) I have been a bit distracted from child-related duties. Usually while I am working the kids are outside, engaged in some wholesome countrified activity--like playing with barbed wire and broken glass. KIDDING! Usually their just digging in the dirt with sticks (why? what do your kids do all day?). But the other day Hattie got into my car and found my makeup. She was there for a while.

Here she is just before I decanted her into the bath. The photo unfortunately doesn't do justice to her artistry or adequately capture the gallons of foundation on her skin and clothing.

Real

I bought a sewing machine.

I didn't exactly intend to buy a sewing machine, but I was at Ikea. You know? Come on, I know you've had this experience. It's like this. You are in Ikea. You have been in Ikea for more time than you would like to admit, weaving back and forth through tastefully modern kitchens and sleek bedrooms. You actually don't know exactly how long you have been there, you don't, in fact, know if it is day or night Outside because *there are no windows!*. Both of your children have reached The End and are throwing epic tantrums. (Yes, those were my children.) You just pried the four-year-old from the floor for the tenth time. The two-year-old is about to make another desperate escape attempt into the basket, box, and random container department. Your ability to think rationally left you back where you buy wall-mount shelves. You start to look at objects you didn't even know were Things and think: "Wow, this Enudden Toilet Roll Holder and Magazine Stand is so cool! How could I have survived this long without a toilet roll holder that incorporates a MAGAZINE STAND! And it's so cheap!"

So, when I saw a shiny new sewing machine I bought it (obviously!!).

"What are you going to do with a sewing machine?" Devin asked me once we were safely back in our car with all our stuff and the still-screaming progeny. Suddenly I was swept away in grand delusions: With my new sewing machine I was going to become a Truly Accomplished Woman, I would sew all of my children's clothes, I would make ties for my husband to coordinate with feast days and liturgical seasons, I would craft elegantly austere tunics for myself from organic linen. ...

"Why don't you start with some curtains," he replied.

And so I did. And let me just say this: Sewing machines: SO complicated, okay? I had NO idea how many pieces and steps and tiny movements were required. It took FOREVER just to find the bobbin (I didn't even know what a bobbin WAS!). It took HOURS of fiddling before I finally sewed a stitch. And then I had to stop: because I had sewed the edge of the curtain to the middle of the curtain. It was awesome.

But I did it. I sewed some curtains. And they don't look too bad.

(Of course I forgot to take pictures so have no documented proof.)


This post is linked to Pretty, Happy, Funny, Real at Auntie Leila's blog!

Welcome to Wise Road

Last week my husband and I signed innumerable documents and became the owners of the dilapidated farmhouse located on a hill above Wise Road. Today I begin a blog in honor of this humble rural domicile, hoping to record our renovation journey, as we search for the good life far from the madding crowd.  

As I set up the blog I struggled to choose an appropriate title. My first impulse was to call it “Wise Road,” for “Wise” is the road on which the farmhouse is to be found. However, as time went by I began to question the wisdom (ha) of this title. Is it…wise…I asked myself, to choose this appellation, with all the word “wise” suggests and implies? Won’t this title perhaps jinx the venture at the outset? Considering our project, could the name “Wise Road” begin to sound ironic? Sarcastic? For many reasons, I mused, it might be more accurate to call the blog “The Folly.” A folly, if you recall, is a small, charming structure that serves no practical purpose. For though our farmhouse may or may not be “charming” at this date and time, it is most certainly small (900 square feet), and its utility is up for debate.

And here we come to the second meaning of the word “folly.” For folly is, of course, foolishness. Folly is in fact *not* a wise road. And there have been many days (and will, I’m sure, be many more) when I have doubted the wisdom of our journey down Wise Road. Any time one undertakes the renovation of a neglected property coming up on its 150^th birthday there is, I think you will agree, at least an element of uncertainty. As you poke through the rooms, in the cellar, as the inspections go down, visions of dollar signs, of weepings and gnashings of teeth, begin to flit before your eyes. Maybe, you think, we should just tear the thing down and build something bright shiny and new. Maybe we should get a trailer. Or a tent. Maybe this was a horrible idea. But, there is much to say on this subject.  I will muse further on “folly” (in general and ours in particular) at a later date. For today, the deed is done, the dice is thrown.

But first, in our defense: There was most certainly an element of whimsy (if not folly) in our decision to purchase a property in the country. But at least, I will maintain, that it is a venerable and longstanding whim, held by both members of the marital partnership. Since the advent of our romance (some 14 years ago) my husband and I have been in perfect agreement regarding the necessity of, someday, possessing a home in the country. Many things have changed since those early days, namely religious persuasion, intellectual conviction, place of residence, marital status, employment status, existence of children, etc. but this one intention has remained firm, the conviction even growing as the other elements developed. The “place in the country” has been a permanent character in all our diverse plots.

So when my husband opened an office in a small town an hour outside the metropolis where we reside, the possibility of realizing our rural reverie suddenly sounded…practical? Prudent? Well, prudent is going too far perhaps. But possible, with at least an element of practicality. If we bought land within spitting distance of said small town we could spend 2-3 days per week there, thus reducing my husband’s inhumane 1 hour+ commute on those days.

So we began searching, visiting farms with old houses abandoned on the premises. We mourned as one “perfect” property was purchased out from under our feet. And when another viable option became available we leapt feet first into the project, making an offer after only one cursory viewing. So much for prudence, right?

So welcome to our blog. Whether it will lead us down a “wise road,” or merely in the way of folly I do not know. Perhaps we will find out. Perhaps we will even find that there is wisdom in folly?