It’s back to the old heating stove soon. In fact we’ve been firing each day that we spend working on the rejuvenation of the Stone House. We plan to move in next Saturday.
Everybody is helping, even the grandsons, which melts my heart ridiculously. Why shouldn’t they learn on this old house? We’re not aiming at perfection here, we’re making home.
We’re making home in a funny, little cottage, parts of which are over a hundred years old. Nothing is straight. The floors struggle to be level and are never, quite. Finally, after so many years, I’m content with the facts of this, and the implications thereof.
I think about it this way. If we were living in a newer, more rational house, I wouldn’t be allowed to do my own trim work. It wouldn’t be correctly done and that’s bad in a proper house. In this house? Not so much.
When you come to sit by my fire, you’ll be treated to some ordinary comfort of unmatched, used, and worn anywhere you look. To be honest, we like it.
I found Mom Graber’s old cabinet in the basement. It’s been moldering in the utility room, storing paint stuff and mouse traps, and other paraphernalia for years. A coat of 3-in-one paint restored it to a position of honor and use in the kitchen. It only wants a little glue for the Formica top but then it fits in perfectly.
Who knows what journeys and treasures of making home are ahead for us.
Stone House Scribblings 