In Progress

morning reflections

Well, work is getting done!  The downstairs is a mess of old wood exposed, new wood hammered, ceiling scrapes, dangling and redirected electrical wires, furniture piled on porch and under wraps, kitchen things and books tucked into closets.

new furniture for the porch

kitchen opened up

Here is my dining table for the duration:

All the workers I contacted months ago are showing up and doing good, sometimes brilliant, work, ie., the master carpenter and his master electrician friend, who both think in whole-picture perspectives, and the painter who actually knows how paint is made, changes over time, and shows on different planes. 

Keith explaining the science of paint

Painting will begin in the living room with my firm and firmly final decision, Benjamin Moore's "Persimmon".  I'd tried the Sherwin Williams variety of that color first, but it reminded me of the salmon loaf they served me two hours after Joseph's birth (what is it about the choices hospital dieticians make?). I found the bedrooms-baths color, too, "White Rain", a gentle hint of blue-gray.  For months, I had hemmed and hawed over whether they would match each other, until the other day, making up the bed with the new coverlet I had sewn back on stay-in winter nights, I looked down and saw them happily coexisting in the fabric. Ah.

Since my last renovation seven years ago (I call it Part I of III), when my brother and nephew did most of the redoing, I hadn't collected the necessary roster of experts, and all my relatives who can do such things are now busy redoing their own places.

But a friend recommended the carpenter,  Chuck, who had done a superb job on his bookcases and cabinets, as I saw for myself.  When Chuck came to look over what needed to be done, he nodded sagely at my long list and said he could do most of that. That was over a month ago, before I could move back in, but he put me on his schedule and showed up the first day as I was unloading boxes and bags from my car.

Since then, he's been keeping me apprised of every turn and change, to which I inevitably reply,  Go to it. He brought in his painter, Keith, a friend of his from childhood, who reminisced with him about skateboarding down our hill.  Though Keith groaned at the idea, he  scraped all my ceilings, agreeing they needed it.  Just expect surprises, Keith counseled (sure enough, he was right...as I write, I can hear him struggling with one).  Chuck also called in another friend, electrician Joe, who cut a swath from his overloaded schedule so that the work on the pocket door to the bathroom wouldn't be held up.  (Certain people get priority, he nodded to me; I was glad to be, at least indirectly, on the receiving end of that association). 

Missing my brother Charles, I had searched online for a tile installer and found one whose written reviews included two people I knew.  Ben turned out to be a young fellow with a new baby who, for safety, asked that the house be clean and clear before he came to measure and advise, and who in turn recommended his friend, five-star stone-installer, Josh, who guided me through a bewildering collection of options for countertops.  Josh then sent his plumber, Mr. Ivy, who came when called and now I don't have to brush my teeth in the shower anymore.  Professional nepotism?  Maybe, but it works for me.

The best part is watching and listening as I traverse ever-changing paths through the rooms; they labor and talk and sing comfortably around each other...I find it a cheerful and cheering scene, knowing that, like art, all the mess is creating a new life for the house.

Yesterday so many people showed up...carpenter, painter, plumber, dishwasher deliverer, and electrician...that I decided to get out of their way and continue work on a new gravel-flagstone path in among the ivy tangles behind the house. 

Later this week, two helpers will show up to plant a few new trees in the back yard.  The ground is too contemptuous for me to dig, composed entirely of clay entwined with large tree roots and embedded in rocks the size of stairsteps...in fact, that's what Joseph dug up in the front yard to build two sets of stairs on the slope.

stepping stones, or what I'm grounded on

And speaking of the front slope, I'd best get out there and water the garden.  We have had much rain in recent weeks, but suddenly this week everything is bone dry.  So I am off to the garden center to pick up extra hose and attachments.

That's what we have been up to here...how about you?