porch paint

Well, we've had a DICKENS of a time trying to paint all of our exterior trim and porches this summer (and by 'we', I mean my husband).  It seems that it rains every day, at least a little.  Nevertheless, things are starting to shape up (slowly) around here.

I do love wooden porches and columns on old houses, especially when they're freshly painted and gleaming, but it's very time-consuming to do all of this maintenance.  It's all fine and good to be a purist about things, but I have decided that synthetic materials are just swell, and that one's time in the summer can be better spent on leisure activities, rather than in the service of keeping this old white elephant of a place looking spiffy.

 

My next house will have a completely maintenance-free exterior, if I have anything to do with it.  And metal-clad exterior windows, instead of wood.  Live and learn.  

In the piano room

We have a small room off the dining room which we call the piano room (because, well, the piano resides there, and not much else- a small desk and a few chairs).  This room gets the morning sun, and a vine grows over the window in the summer.  As a result of this, I haven't cleaned the window in a while, because one can't disturb a vine which is growing so vigorously. It would just be wrong.

The room is painted a yellowish-green, and I've hung some leaf plates above the piano.  The piano itself is very old and made of walnut, I think.  It's also out of tune, because the last piano tuner who worked on it, made some rather insulting comments about it (i.e.  something along the lines of  'this reminds me of a model T Ford')  and I suppose I'm still smarting from that. The sound which emanates from this vintage instrument has a saloon-ish quality about it.   This used to be considered by my children to be an instrument of torture, but I can safely say that after about 11 years or so, they are starting to enjoy it.  

As with any surface, things tend to accumulate there over time; a bust of a little french girl, some photos, plates,  plastic music trophies.  Dust.

Music adds to the ambiance of a home, don't you think?  Especially live music.  Especially the theme from the Super Mario Video game.  We're all about culture around here.

House of the Living Dead

On a hot and humid August day this past summer, a stranger knocked on our door.  The man was scouting properties for a movie to be filmed sometime in the near future.  He left his card and asked us to call him.  When I came home later that day, the kids were full of chatter and excitement about our house being used for a movie.

"Really?....What movie?" I asked.

"Well.....um....o.k......you won't like this....but.....it's for a zombie movie" said my husband.

"!!!!!!!??????"

Yes, that's right, folks, our property was scouted for a sequel to Night of The Living Dead (apparently a horror classic- I haven't seen it, nor do I plan on doing so).

And, o.k. the grass may have been a bit longer than usual (it was such a rainy summer), and some of the landscaping could have been a little tidier (we were busy, people!) but a horror flick?  What was it about our place that made someone think "yes, zombies!"....

It turns out that my helpful husband gave the man a tour of the property, and let him take pictures, all the while pointing out the features that would make this the perfect setting for zombie-ish goings-on.   

The forested area was declared a perfect place to film the part where the police chase the zombie children through a dark forest, shooting at them all the while.

No attic in which to keep the undead, flesh-eating children locked up?  No problem!  Helpful husband pointed out that we had the perfect spot above the garage (bats and dead flies thrown in for free)!

We haven't heard back from the property scout yet, and I hope we don't.  I'm assuming they found a more zombie-appropriate setting.  I'm trying not to take  too personally the fact that my house puts people in mind of a cult horror B-movie- really not an effect I was going for when making my decorating decisions.

I'm trying to look on the bright side, and how this experience has provided me with an interesting anecdote about the house.  It's funny, actually, Hah hah hah. Hah. Hm.

 
Would you allow a horror movie to be filmed at your house?

aging....gracefully

When I say we inhabit an old farmhouse, I mean OLD.  Oh, sure, by European standards, it's not considered particularly ancient, but here, it pre-dates Confederation and is therefore a heritage property (euphemism for teetering pile of bricks).  We think it was built around 155 years ago, give or take.  But there's no teetering here, no sir! This place is as solid as they come, despite things like this

You know those groaning, settling, popping sounds old places sometimes make at night?  Not here, baby.  We are almost completely creak-free.  What we do have in spades, though, is quirks.  Crooked windows, angled floors, tight corners.  Nooks.  Crannies.  Too much space in some areas, not enough in others.  I could expound on this topic for ages (and I will, just not right now) since I am a champion expounder on all things old-house related, having lived here for eleven years.    There is a real sense of time having passed in an old house, of people having left their mark

But it's not a sad feeling, it's a comforting one.  We're just stewards of this place, it was here before we were, it'll probably be here after us.  This mildly melancholy, somewhat reflective post brought to you courtesy of: The hayseed.  (Wow, those pictures look a little creepy, non?)