Wife, writer, tinkerer, grower of food. I'm happiest outside our rambling farmhouse with a basket looped on my arm, picking dinner from the garden. That's joy right there. Please follow along; I'm so glad you're here!
I went antiquing yesterday for the first time in a very long time. And wouldn't you know it, I had terrible luck all day. Don't you hate it when that happens? The one place I was planning on spending two hours and walking away with a whole box of booty was half closed for (long overdue) renovations. So I took a drive past my very favoritest of places, Old Odd and Unique, which is usually closed on Thursdays. But they were OPEN! And as I parked, I knew my luck was about to turn.
But I was not on a mission for trinkets today. I was on a mission for a pot rack. Specifically, something cool to turn in to a pot rack to hang over our stove. I knew I was headed to the right place. The guy is great: friendly and creative and knowledgeable, and fair. He led me to an old wagon wheel (too country) and an old stained glass window (too much color) and then to that fabulous wacky thing, something I'd never seen before: an expandable clamp-on luggage rack from the 20s or 30s. It would clamp right on to the running boards of a model T, he told me. I was sold. I was so completely and utterly sold. Coolest. Pot rack. Ever.
And then the punch card holder begged me to take it home, and I listened. That I've already hung, as you can see, on the partition between the kitchen and the dining room. I've never done anything with an "industrial" vibe-- never quite felt like it would match our space. But now, somehow, in this kitchen with its smooth stone counters and its stainless steel range, it fits.
I have no idea how we're going to hang the luggage-come-pot rack, I should mention, but it will happen at some point in the near future. Some way, some how.
Now, if you'll excuse me, the man lift has been put into place, finally, and it is time for this gal to commence House Exterior, Summer, 2014: Driveway Side.