Slowly, but surely, we’re getting things moved into the new house. Finding things we’d forgotten we even had. We were moving along at a pretty good clip when The Crud hit us hard and we were down for a full week last week, recovering. Feeling much better now and we’re ready to get back at it.
Has been a busy last few months around here. I haven’t been good about posting photos of the progress on the new house and studio, but here a few I took last week. We’re hoping to be finished in just a week, with final inspection on or around December 19. YAY!!!
Can’t wait to see swings on each end of the front porch.
Those 2 double windows on this end of the house are in my new studio.
The antique wood floors are so beautiful! This is the master bedroom floor shortly after the stain was finished. The stain is still wet.
I’m not getting much creative work done since the house building was started, but that will be a temporary thing (I hope!). We now have a slab, a storm room and a wastewater treatment plant. Framing materials were delivered yesterday and the framers rolled in this morning.
Can’t wait to see walls going up!
We’ve been running around trying to see what’s available in flooring for the new house. We knew already that we wanted wood floors in the open living/kitchen area and in the bedrooms, with ceramic tile in the bathrooms, utility and mud rooms. I want to keep things relatively neutral so I can easily change colors and textures when the mood strikes me.
I had been dreading being bombarded with all the choices available, but was pleasantly surprised to find these things pretty soon after beginning our search.
We were hoping to be able to leave the concrete floor in the studio bare, but in order to pass the final inspection, the floor must be covered or finished, so we settled for stained concrete there. The builder says he will coordinate the color with the wood floors so we have continuity throughout.
Then, on to the brickyard. We knew we wanted this Burnished Slate color for the metal roof, so kept that in mind when choosing brick.
We both quickly gravitated to the Shellman Bluff brick and decided it was the right one.
So far, things are falling into place more easily than we thought. Of course, this is only the beginning and there are SO many more choices to be made.
I’ve been snapping a few photos as we’re preparing to build our new house and studio. I want to share them here on my blog to keep a record of the process.
My husband, Danny, spent 40 years as a heavy equipment operator before he retired a few years ago. He loves running equipment and I know he misses it more than he will admit. He got the chance to climb back on a dozer for a couple days while the dirt was being hauled in for our house pad. As the trucks were dumping dirt, he was spreading and packing it and shaping the pad. It was fun watching him doing something he loves so much and does so well.
He says he’s “old school” and that operators like him are a dying breed. He scoffs when we drive by a construction site and see a dozer equipped with GPS units that control the positioning of the blade. He’s proud of the fact that he has the skill to grade “by eye” and have it be near perfect.
It’s a good thing when a man is proud of his work.
I am blessed to have space in my home for 2 separate studios. The one in my walk-out basement is my “dirty” studio, where I work with clay, glass, metal. It doesn’t matter in this space if I splatter mud, and I can cut glass and metal with no worries if bits fall on the concrete floor. The materials kept in this studio can tolerate a light dusting of clay dust with no ill effects.
Then there’s the “clean” studio which is on the main level, in a spare bedroom. Here, I can sew, draw, paint and work on craft projects and know I can leave them out and not find them covered in clay dust or glass shards when I get back to them. Here, this table, which was passed to us from Danny’s mother, holds some of my favorite things.
The angel on the left was found at a flea market during one of our junkin’ trips down south of Birmingham, as were the plaster tiles underneath the table. Sitting in front of the stained glass mirror is a box full of buttons, some of which came from my maternal grandmother’s stash after she passed away. She still was using a treadle sewing machine when she passed away.
The little girl in the photo is me, many moons ago. I like that a hand can be seen on the bench beside me. I think that hand belonged to my sweet dad. I’ll have to ask my mom to be sure.
The baby shoe is not one I wore as a baby. I found it at an estate sale and couldn’t find the mate, so I brought home the lone, well-worn little shoe and I just enjoy looking at it, often wondering how old that “baby” is now, if, in fact, he or she is still living.
The little handmade figure sitting beside the shoe has clothing, hat and shoes made of dried orange peel. Uh-huh, orange peel. I can’t remember where I picked up this little gem, but I’ve had her a very long time.
Driftwood pieces gathered from a northern California beach sit in a beautiful handmade wooden bowl Danny gave me. I’m not sure where he got the bowl, but I love the way the craftsman left the bark around the rim. The driftwood reminds me of our favorite trip out West.
This sweet little French artist was brought to me when I was teaching high school art at Brandon High School in Brandon, MS. A lovely friend, who had accompanied the school kids on a trip to Europe, said it reminded her of me and she had to bring it back. I’m so glad she did! I have cherished it over the years.
And lastly, some old keys that were my dad’s and some baling wire. Most of these keys belong to now-defunct vehicles and farm equipment. I enjoy looking through them.
The keys bring back memories of pickup trucks and tractors and being surrounded by cotton and soybean fields. I still remember my dad coming home from the fields in the evenings, his tanned skin and blue jeans covered in the sandy, white dust that flew everywhere in the wake of the tractors. Mom would have supper ready and we’d all sit down together to eat and talk about the day. What a wonderful way to grow up. How blessed I am to have had parents who worked hard, but still knew how to laugh and enjoy life. Such beautiful memories I have hid in my heart.