prairiechick's Journal

 Feeling better today. The long weekend was so humid I truly was the moldy limp rag. I made a pact with Don that we clean the building materials off the sun porch so that we could at least enjoy using it this summer. That meant moving the power tools, ladders, etc. out of the porch so they could go back into the shop. It also means Don had to move the extra wood for the porch from the shop under the house.

   Yesterday, I decorated the porch and wore myself out so we didn't go see the horses as planned.

This morning it was worth it. I had coffee and toast on the porch just after sunrise. Birds of all colors flashed through the garden, a couple of dragonflies passed, Mr and Mrs Cardinal perched in the oak tree directly outside the south window. And Mardi Gras got atop the plant stand, which we made from a discarded 50 foot oak ladder and had herself a good old kitty time playing with the ties on her perch pillow, and the curtain pulls, rolling about in a ball and being happy her 'view' was back.

   Some house plants were moved out, vintage 'End of the Trail' Indian prints finally came out of ten years of storage, folk art Buffalo Bill went back on his base, the swing got it old quilt cover and pillows and I'm comfortable. The cats have their window seats back, I have my full birding view back, plus the breezes minus the bugs, and if the roof doesn't leak all will be well. Still, large saucers have been placed in the old leak areas (that's a story for another day).

   Last year we helped friends/neighbors tear down their original 100 plus year old house for salvage rights. We had so much fun discovering unexpected things in strange places. Forty years old cigarette packages in the ceiling. Wrigley's gum wrappers at least as old under door sills. 1907 Montgomery Wards catalogs used as the only insulation in one room of the house. The rest of the house was uninsulated!

   There had been a big chimney fire at one time that had darkened the wallpaper we discovered under the wallboard. Visible were still the outlines of the wall clock and the pictures that had been on wall.

A second bigger fire nearly took the entire kitchen, porch and roof. Today the entire house would have been torn down. Back then it was covered with a tin roof, wood carsiding, new windows, and kitchen cabinets.

   1910 newspapers were stuffed into drafty door frames. Handmade glass went into the windows. We even found plastic tile made by my wealthy relatives corporation still on the bathroom walls. The biggest surprise was the 28" x 12' wide oak boards that were used to construct the walls of the bedroom/former shed/wood shelter of the house.

   We stopped on Saturday to visit with our friends, and yes they are right, we all miss the house. Even though they now live in a gorgeous new home fifty feet away, their memories are of the old home. And yes we had so much fun exploring, deconstructing, saving, guessing, sharing history and laughter. I wonder when someone tears apart our home would they take time to wonder where each part came from.

    That the front garden pond is recycled restaurant salad bar. The back pond from an old reject hot-tub. Our wonderful conrete stairs and landings were picnic tables bound for the dump site. And that our much loved back porch is actually built from the remains of a 100+ year old home of cedar and oak that grew during the Civil War?

   Probably few besides ourselves will care. We're lucky the volunteer fire department turned down our friends offer to use the house for a practice burn because it was in a wooded area. Our neighbors are lucky we happened to stop at their garage sale and I opened my big mouth and asked what they were going to do with their old house, and made an offer.

   I'm feeling better today. I can see what we accomplished during the past year and I feel good about it. We still need to finish the ceiling, and paint the walls, put in flooring. And stop that leaking. But that can wait till winter - for now I just feel better. That is good enough when someone has an illness. To measure by inches sometimes, when I cannot remember the miles I've come.