Spring chicken

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She said it best. Happy Friday, too!

What changed, and when, and how far

Have you ever felt yourself--or your life-- changing, just as it was happening? Sometimes that feeling has found me (on long car trips, especially), but so often the break-up or the move or the quitting of a job happens so fast there's no time for reflection. It takes months after for you to be able to look back and see what changed, and when, and how far.

Lately, I've been making time for reflection. It must be the change of seasons that's stirred this need to look around and take stock, to mark time before spring is in full swing. Last night, as we sat in our messy, chaotic shell of a house (in Binghamton), we reflected. A big transition is ahead of us-- the transition from urban to rural. One of us is skipping in circles and dreaming of an enormous garden (I won't say who). The other one is sad to leave the rich circle of musicians at our favorite bar (I won't say who), but eager to make connections in our new home. We're keeping grounded by thinking of what's certain: on evenings like this, we can take Diesel and wine and a guitar and sit by the fire until bedtime. Listening to the peepers.

It's been nearly a year since we "met" Gilbertsville (and I'm looking forward to introducing Gilbertsville to you, by way of a photo tour, just as soon as we're in). We've owned the house five months. This space, and all of you, have been helping me through this process, from November until now. I'm not sure I could've stayed focused and excited without the chance to wax ecstatic-- and go into exhaustive detail-- about all the work we've gotten done. Thank you all ever so much.

Just as keenly, I am looking forward to normal life again, and writing about all the things I started this blog to talk about. Cooking. Growing. Home-making. Sewing. Heaven knows there will be much home-making coming up this summer. For the house is almost done, but for now it's just a house. It's going to take doings-- creative, artful, decorative, happy doings-- to make it home.

Won't you come along?

We're thinking

Today, we're thinking...

another month and we'll be living here.

that mouse we saw two weeks ago hasn't reappeared, good.

1.3 acres = a lot of raking.

raking is alright in the sunshine.

our new side porch was definitely made for camp chairs, Diesel's bed, and lunch.

Gilbertsville spring peepers are freaking loud.

Life is good.

And you?

An opportunity to be cherished

When I was finally born, after twenty hours of labor, my mom tells me she couldn't stop exclaiming, "Oh look! Oh look! Oh look!" She was caught up in the drama of the process, ecstatic for result--finally!-- of so much effort. I can relate. This is exactly how I felt watching Patrick carry the last piece of fireplace down to the truck yesterday.

As I said on Tuesday, we bought a fireplace from a dilapidated old Binghamton apartment building (shown above). It was still attached to the house, and I don't know about you guys, but I don't have a whole of experience removing fireplaces from old buildings. We were girding ourselves for lots of frustration and cursing.

Patrick and the gentleman who owns the house went upstairs to make an assessment of the job, and form a battle plan. I dawdled around, assuming it'd be a long process.

I wandered and snapped lots of pictures.

The place is beautiful-- at least, my idea of beautiful-- but all the same, I'm glad the house we bought needs a little bit less work than this place.

Right? After seeing streams of demo-dust sifting down from above, and hearing some quiet groaning, I walked up to see how the guys were progressing. I expected: frowns, dejected sighs, maybe even exasperation at the necessity of some tool we were lacking. How easy could it be, anyway, to prize a century-old slate fireplace out of the only home it's ever known?

I walked upstairs, and beheld:

A fully disassembled fireplace, already being carted downstairs and into the truck! It was so easy, says Patrick: two pins holding the uprights in place, and the rest was just gravity. Had I known that it'd be such a quick job, I would've scampered up there with my camera first thing.

As I mentioned, the fireplace surround has a really gorgeous and interesting faux wood-grain finish, which is why we chose it. See?

The surround was trimmed out with some tiles-- seen to the left-- which had been painted at some point. Underneath the flaking paint, they're yellow marble. It just kept getting better.

I carried down the pieces of tile (because they were light) as Patrick made a couple trips out carrying the (heavier) slate pieces. This was the last one.

Cue: Oh look! Oh look! Oh look!

It was literally a ten-minute job.

So, that's the story. When we started idly trolling antiques stores and Craigslist, about three months ago, we knew we couldn't settle for just any fireplace. It had to be a cool one, you know. I had a drool-worthy picture from a book called Restore, Recycle, Repurpose, for reference, but I knew it was silly to hope we'd find something that amazing here in Binghamton. I had no idea that the very first fireplace that came along would be almost as amazing as the book. The finish, the marble tile, the history, my goodness. We are taking a little piece of old Binghamton with us to our new house, and it feels right.

Oh, and because some of you may be curious, we paid $120. I'd seen thoroughly unremarkable wooden fireplaces going for $250 in salvage shops, so altogether I feel we got a good deal. Plus, the owner was really cool, and he's doing the right thing. Rather than destroying the fireplaces in his big upcoming renovation project, he's giving them an opportunity to be cherished. After a few more starry-eyed history lovers like us come along, (and I hope they do!), all the fireplaces will have new homes.

Yesterday was a good day. Today, I'm perma-smiling. The fireplace is going to G'ville this weekend, to live in our garage until the great room is ready for it. What a happy thing we have to look forward to.

Light my fire(place)

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I think I mentioned here, a couple times, that we've been quietly on the lookout for a salvaged mantle to come live with us in Gilbertsville. We love fireplaces-- our Binghamton house has a nice one that we drink wine beside in wintertime-- and so adding a fireplace to Gilbertsville has been quietly in the works. We think one would look just perfect in the Great Room, along this wall. But, you know, you can't just drive to Target and come home with the perfect salvaged mantle. It has to be the right size and style, and, of course, the right price. So, I was sniffing around a little, keeping fingers crossed and putting feelers out to a friend who volunteers with house deconstruction.

And then I spotted this guy hanging out on Craigslist:

I ran it by Patrick, he said, "Looks cool," so I happily moved on to the next phase: going to visit. Yesterday evening, we met at a very dilapidated downtown apartment building to have a look. There are six mantles in the building, and all are for sale. The one we ended up making an offer on is similar to this, with a different insert (which we'll probably be scrapping anyway), and a pretty beautiful faux-wood finish. The mantles are actually made of slate, and (naturally) crazy heavy. But, we have a standing date on Thursday involving a burly husband, a burly father-in-law, and an F-150. Hopefully cursing, bruises, and frustration will not be part of our date, but you never can tell when dealing with dilapidated houses and century-old mantles.

I will be standing back, and taking pictures of the action. Because, you know, documentation is an important part of the job, too.

What about you? Have you made any good scores on Craigslist lately?

The spirit of hooky

It might finally be spring for keeps. We had two near-50 days of bright sunshine in Gilbertsville. Though we did indeed get some work done (touch ups, floor sanding), the spirit of hooky permeated the weekend. Just like that first warm sunny schoolday, being pent-up indoors was almost unbearable. So, we gave in.

Diesel helped. We went outside and meandered around the backyard, looking at green daffodil nubs, but not Diesel. He downright pranced.

I love me some prancing terrier.

You all know me, and so you probably already know this: I can't wait to start digging around that big, green backyard. We staked out my garden plot. It's 50 x 50'. Yes, oh yes, I have waited so long.

All around there are little surprises popping out: tulips, snowdrops, irises. Enough daffodils to pave a city lot. Buds on a mysterious tree that make my heart race with anticipation. What is this lovely thing? Could it be a pear tree? I've always wanted a pear tree. And a cherry tree. And an apple tree. You know?

Sunday morning involved a sunny drive, a state park, a little exploring, and an old cemetery. It felt so good to let ourselves off the hook a little, and enjoy the day. In the end, the house will get done. Move-in will happen. We took this gorgeous April morning and made use of it, then.

We started a brush pile, which led to brush fire. A perfectly harmless, utilitarian excuse to be outside as long as possible.

There was raking, too, and springtime conversations with new neighbors.

And now it is spring, and our to-do list has suddenly mushroomed to include, "build a compost bin," "fence the garden," "paint the porch trim," and, "rake, rake, rake." But, that's okay. We can do all those things outside. And, how did that part go? The house will get done. Move-in will happen. Oh, right. It's all okay, then.

Good. How did you spend your weekend?

Grateful.

I am grateful for coltsfoot, and thawing, and our first hike together since October.

I am grateful for geese. I am grateful that the ten inches of snow we were supposed to get got downgraded to one inch.

And I am grateful for Friday. Happy, happy Friday.