at home in town
After a long day of travel we have found ourselves in a charming whitewashed rambler of a house. Room after room surprised us with starched white curtains, doilies and old paintings and Craftsman furniture.
It's as if our grandparents went away for a week and lent us the place - without the smell.
The mattresses are new - the blankets have been hand edged with ribbons.
The shower curtains are new (they still have creases) - the tiny lamps have precarious looking wiring.
The rugs are all new (you have no idea how much this matters) - the transferware is ancient.
And, scattered here and there, are the bits and bobs of someone's life...
a coffee can full to the top with old old buttons
a sewing basket, so full of supplies that I expect to see a project somewhere
a shoebox of old tools
a pad of paper and some sharpened pencils by the rotary phone in the kitchen
handwritten notes here and there, in an aged scrawl, with info on lights, heat, etc. (the dryer is in the closet in the living room, says one)
The floors creak and groan, the stairs are impossibly steep and there are steps and doors everywhere. But the place is spotless - even things that are easily overlooked, especially in an old house, have been polished, cleaned, repainted. All the windows must be held up with boards and sticks, but they gleam behind crisp white trimmings.
The house is on the corner of a not too busy street - about two blocks from the bustle of town.
It appears to have wifi...and there is a brand new television (we don't use televisions when we are away) but these things seem so odd next to the spindle back chairs and family portraits from the 1940's.
My plan is to post but not read...
to read your comments, but not reply (I'm on vacation...)
The birds are singing.
None of us slept well...we all got up at 4:30, had tea and are going back to bed.
It's 50 degrees.
It's as if our grandparents went away for a week and lent us the place - without the smell.
The mattresses are new - the blankets have been hand edged with ribbons.
The shower curtains are new (they still have creases) - the tiny lamps have precarious looking wiring.
The rugs are all new (you have no idea how much this matters) - the transferware is ancient.
And, scattered here and there, are the bits and bobs of someone's life...
a coffee can full to the top with old old buttons
a sewing basket, so full of supplies that I expect to see a project somewhere
a shoebox of old tools
a pad of paper and some sharpened pencils by the rotary phone in the kitchen
handwritten notes here and there, in an aged scrawl, with info on lights, heat, etc. (the dryer is in the closet in the living room, says one)
The floors creak and groan, the stairs are impossibly steep and there are steps and doors everywhere. But the place is spotless - even things that are easily overlooked, especially in an old house, have been polished, cleaned, repainted. All the windows must be held up with boards and sticks, but they gleam behind crisp white trimmings.
The house is on the corner of a not too busy street - about two blocks from the bustle of town.
It appears to have wifi...and there is a brand new television (we don't use televisions when we are away) but these things seem so odd next to the spindle back chairs and family portraits from the 1940's.
My plan is to post but not read...
to read your comments, but not reply (I'm on vacation...)
The birds are singing.
None of us slept well...we all got up at 4:30, had tea and are going back to bed.
It's 50 degrees.
Comments
Fifty degrees? Damn. I'm jealous. We won't see that until December.
It sounds beautiful.
Have a great time :)
Enjoy this incredible weather.
What's transferware?