Painting the Kitchen

Published, Jan 25,2015

Well, I don’t know about you, but I enjoyed our recent and brief respite from the bitter cold last weekend. We were visiting another one of Tennessee’s “top five” cities—Knoxville. Yet another gymnastics competition took us to their downtown area, too. In fact, all of Tennessee’s “top five” host these competitions—oops, make that four-and-a-half out of the five.

There is a small, pre-season competition which is hosted by Clarksville Elite, but they hold it at the Foy Fitness Center on the APSU campus. It doesn’t begin to compare to the scale and scope of the meets held in Memphis, Nashville, Knoxville and Chattanooga, though.

I just think it’s strange that a city that boast about its convenient central location, that we haven’t done something to take advantage of that location. I am sure greater minds than mine are working on it. I’ll just worry my pretty little head about domestic matters—like making hotel reservations and researching places to dine and shop while we’re attending the next event.

As for other domestic matters, I have once again tackled the less than enviable task of painting the kitchen. This is a process that was much needed, but became impossible to ignore after our recent renovations.

I don’t think I mentioned is before, but I asked Glen (our contractor for this project) move the cabinet surrounding our refrigerator about six inches to the left. It’s something I thought of a while ago, but doing so would have exposed an area of the floor which was not covered by the laminate floor that my husband and I had installed. The thought of trying to retro-fit the flooring into that exposed space was too daunting, so we waited.

We have a side-by-side refrigerator, which I normally wouldn’t have considered, but it met my single requirement: it was the largest capacity I could find which would fit into the space available. It fit, but (a little detail one should apparently consider) the door on the right hit the door jam on the adjacent wall and wouldn’t open. That’s when we came-up with the solution of removing the door jam and cutting it to a length that allowed the refrigerator door free movement—sort of. It still hit the door to the laundry room whenever we had to open it wide enough to open the crisper drawers.

Eight years of door banging had me ready to jump on this possibility of moving those cabinets when we had to replace the flooring. Glen told me it would be an easy fix, so I added it to the list. What a difference the move has made. The space we lost—to the left of the cabinet—was a concern, because I stow a rolling cart, which holds my stand mixer, there. Now it protrudes into the walkway a little more, but not enough to matter to anyone.

The repositioned cabinets gave us more room to open the doors on the refrigerator.

 

The new flooring and laundry room also provided an opportunity to make a few more changes to the space, too. I brought home a piece of furniture I had in Hodgepodge, but had been keeping in storage; it was always one of my favorite pieces and, consequently, I didn’t discount it when I closed shop. (My subconscious mind obviously had plans for it.)

My subconscious desire—the black bookcase/cupboard.

So, I told you all of that to tell you this: I started painting the kitchen again. When I moved the white cabinet from the kitchen into the laundry room, I took that opportunity to paint the wainscoting, trim and wall before positioning the new bookcase there.

the white cupboard in it’s new location

 

Fortunately, I love the color of our kitchen, so I am just going to freshen-up the look with some cleaning and the same colors. This way, I will be able to take my time—thus far proven, as I began the process just after Thanksgiving—without having to be met with an offensive contrast of colors. Of course, this could also work against me when I consider my ability to procrastinate.

One last note, since I apparently have a few things on my mind and the time on my hands to consider them . . . at length . . . I’ve decided to begin blogging again. This may not mean much to you, but it is a big thing for me. I consider it an obligation, of sorts. If you tell your readers you’re going to do something, then you need to do it. So, if you like reading about our renovation projects and general shenanigans, you may want to check it out. I will also be providing a few more photographs than space allows here in “The Leaf.” By the end of the weekend, you’ll find me at www.hodgepodge-home.blogspot.com.

A personal note—thank you to the friends who encouraged me to get back to my blog. I appreciate the support and confidence.

It’s Beginning to look a lot like Chaos

originally published on Dec 15, 2013 in The Leaf Chronicle

I was hoping to regale you with decorating tips and pictures of my decorated home, but alas—‘twas not to be. As author John Steinbeck penned, “The best laid schemes of mice and men . . .”

Oops! Wrong. It wasn’t Mr. Steinbeck, although I learned the quote in his novel, “Of Mice and Men,” he was actually quoting a poem written by Robert Burns. Anyhoo, the point is: plans often change or are changed for you.

My plans for the weekend changed drastically when the hard drive on my computer at the shop crashed Friday night at the close of business. No problem—it just contains all of the information vital to the operation of my shop for the past 9 years. I don’t use it much . . . just for every transactions, inventory question, social media to posts and email conversations. Naturally, after three hours on the phone with tech support and the promise of the delivery of a “recovery disc” (as if that means ANYTHING to me) within 3 – 5 business days, I took this whole event in stride.

So, after my mini-meltdown, I called my sister and asked her WWAD (What Would Angela Do?). Angela is one of our really, really smart friends who knows her way around a computer. Kendall (my sister) is usually my go to girl, but when she doesn’t know what to do—we go to Angela. When Angela doesn’t know what to do—we cry. Angela suggested calling tech support—when that didn’t work—she said, “Take it to Doghouse Computers.”

So, first thing Saturday morning, I did. They fixed it and got it back to me the same day! So, please, let that be a lesson for all of us. I am rabid about shopping local, but thought that, at 6 p.m. on a Friday night, my only option was online help. Not only did the online tech support fail me (they, in fact, promised they would have me up and running that night), but now I am fighting to get my money back. Taylor, at Doghouse, talked to me—in person—and understood my desperate situation and did everything he could to fix my computer as quickly as possible. Shop local, people—it makes a difference.

I told you all of that, so I could tell you this . . .

With my weekend compressed by my computer emergency, my plans for a big day of decorating this past Sunday turned into a big day of cleaning out the front room, which we refer to as “the parlor,” but that sounds so hoity-toity when I see it written. I had hoped to tackle this project Friday night so we could make room to relocate a table from the living room, to make room for the big tree. The parlor (said in my head with a droll British accent) was a little cluttered, as it has been the catch-all space for: inventory I’m holding onto; a college student’s “must have” bike; empty boxes from the recent bathroom re-do; a variety of ready-to-hang-but-no-wall-space-available art; and, a purgatory (of sorts) for laptops awaiting their final resting place.

The only decorating I managed was placing three trees in their designated positions—only two of which have lights on them; because that is the way I brought them home from my shop! The big tree in the living room gets a minimum of 1,000 new lights each year. I leave that tree on 24 hours per day and do not bother storing light strings that have had a minimum of 700 hours of use. When I used to reuse lights, I’ve had them go out, a string at a time, throughout the month of December—not doing that again.

My youngest daughter helped by bringing down some of the boxes while I was at the shop. She even arranged my Santa and nutcracker collections. That was a huge help due to all of the unwrapping involved in those chores.

As I plan my attack for the rest of the décor, I have found myself wondering what, if anything, I can “skip” this year. I probably won’t decorate the cabinet tops with all of the fresh greenery I’ve used in the past. I may also skip the vintage tinsel tree in the dining room . . . especially since I’ve added a new tree at the base of the stairs. Nah—who do I think I’m kidding? The tinsel tree will probably go up tonight, while I’m helping my decorating elf with her homework. It’s only about 4 feet tall—the tree, not the decorating elf; I adorn it with vintage ornaments in shades of aqua and pink—the elf, not the tree . . . (rimshot, please).

I have one more chance to share some decorating ideas with you next week. You know better than to hold your breath though.

Plenty of Blessings at Thanksgiving

originally published on Nov 23, 2013 in The Leaf Chronicle

I’ll start this column by saying thank you to all of the kind and concerned patrons of Hodgepodge, whom also demonstrate distinguishable intelligence by reading The Leaf Chronicle, for their inquiries regarding whether or not I would continue writing for this fine publication. The foreseeable future does include a weekly column written by yours truly, but I will encourage you to share your appreciation for the journaling of my antics with my editors—all persons I regard with the highest esteem.

As this column will appear a few short days prior to my favorite holiday, I thought I’d share a little about our holiday plans. Like the menu, there will be only minor variances from years prior. For instance, I started discussing the menu with my mother and eldest daughter the other night. I suggested a possible change from my regular offering of my mushroom and sausage dressing—which I’ve been serving for nigh on 20 years (argh! I should not have done the math . . .)—and was met with hesitation. Neither of them wanted to stomp my new idea, but they had apparently been looking forward to the old standard and, to be honest, so am I. The new rice dressing will have to wait for a less momentous occasion.

In a recent column I told you about my cousin’s approach of serving her Thanksgiving meal in courses, which I think is a fabulous idea—yet will not come to fruition at the King Kompound this year. I don’t think this is the year to implement changes—we have enough to contend with at the moment.

I did say, however, I won’t make my pumpkin bread pudding this year. The request has been submitted for basic, everyday (but not at my house), run-of-the-mill pumpkin pies, which I happen to love. I haven’t made a pumpkin pie in years! Anyhoo, as I was flipping through a magazine this morning, I saw a recipe for a Double Chocolate Bread Pudding with a Coffee Caramel Sauce and my mouth began to water. I’m thinking bread pudding will make an appearance, but in a slightly different form this year.

I am still considering the table setting, but I know it will involve my Johnson Brother’s Friendly Village dishes. Last year, I used some wheat bundles I had arranged as the focal point for the table, but the moths really liked them, so I had to toss them (in the picture). I have a cotton bowl garland and couple oat standards I made which will likely anchor this year’s display.

The challenge of our dining room table is its—umm—rustic condition. We bought it from Carolyn Robinson at Traditions when we first moved to Clarksville. I believe she said it had been in a break room at factory in Nashville; I could’ve made that up, but I’ve been telling folks the same story for years, so it has to be true by now. We absolutely love this table! The top is constructed of two wide, thick oak boards that have been pocked by cigarette burns and numerous other assaults. Where the two boards meet in the middle, there is a little ridge which keeps me from displaying anything with a flat bottom in the center of the table—everything wobbles. I generally have to use displays with feet that will straddle the ridge. Sometimes, I slip a coaster or some other shim-like device under the tablecloth to stabilize the chosen centerpiece, as I did last year.

Oh well, the world is full of challenging situations which perplex us to no end. My dining table centerpiece will not bring about world peace or the end of starvation in the Sudan. So as we gather around our table—wobbly centerpiece and all—I will be praying for the same and giving thanks for the many, many blessings the King family enjoys. Happy Thanksgiving!

Fall Fluff

originally published in The Leaf Chronicle on Nov 17, 2013.

Please tell me my calendar is wrong. Please tell me I did not lose two weeks of my life-especially at such a critical time in my life. As I told my husband the other day, I feel like I went to sleep on the 28^th of October and woke-up mid-November.

By “critical time in my life,” I am pretty sure you think I’m referring to the announcement that we are closing Hodgepodge, but actually, I am talking about the holidays. I mean, I live for this stuff! What a time to have to be worried about the nuts and bolts of wrapping-up nearly a decade of boutique ownership.

I wonder how your preparations are progressing. Did you print a check list? Did you laugh your way to the recycling bin, with my column in hand? I have to admit, I haven’t figured out my preparation timeline yet, but I am looking forward to my favorite holiday and enjoying time with family.

As you read this, my sister, Kendall, is (hopefully) on her way here with my mother riding shotgun. Her infinite number of bags and boxes neatly packed in the trunk and backseat for her extended winter visit. I’m giddy! I love it when she comes to visit. I enjoy sharing our days, making plans for my occasional days off—heck—just having someone to plan meals with is fun!

I finally took down my Halloween decorations and am slowly beefing-up the Thanksgiving vignettes throughout the house. After my column last week, I noticed I use a lot of faux and dried florals through the fall and winter. There are several reasons for this additional fluff.

First, we’re in the house more; during the spring and summer we’re outside, enjoying Mother Nature. There is no need for the addition of flowers inside and if there is, I can grab some from outside.

Second, the dried and silk flowers help cozy-up the place, which isn’t needed during the summer months. We’ve found that is true of vignettes at the shop, too. If we work on a display, but are not completely satisfied with it, we usually add some flowers, a leafy branch or vine and the look is completed. Sometimes, however, too much is too much (profound, eh?). You don’t want to add so much of the stuff that the focal point is obscured.

Third, I prefer fall/winter fakes to spring/summer fakes; for some reason they are more convincing. Or is it that they are less offensive? I can’t decide which. My decorating palette definitely reflects the colors of fall, so that is likely the primary reason. They are well-suited to my décor, so they look better.

Finally, the faux berries, leaves and flowers don’t shed. I think I’ve mentioned how much my husband loves it when I start bringing the real stuff inside—because I do plenty of that, too. His favorite of favorites has to be Nandina berries. Nothing makes him happier than finding the “suicide berries” (those that choose not to hang-on for the slow, inevitable death) all over the floor, table or counter. Since my single goal in life is to make my husband happy—I guess this is the best reason.

My most recent addition to our fall fluff.

I Feel Good . . . I Knew That I Would!

The is the article I wrote for The Leaf Chronicle, which was originally published on Oct 28, 2013.

Remember last week when I said I feel energized by this time of year? Well, I have smashed all personal best records since then! Who’s the gal? Me—I’m the gal!!! I admit I’ve been humming the Rocky theme song a lot lately; not “Gonna Fly Now,” but “Eye of the Tiger.” I’ve got a lot to do and this is the time of year, I’m likely to accomplish it. That feels good.

We normally pick-up at the shop this time of year, but things have been exceptionally slow this month. (Gee—I wonder why?) The good news, though, is that I’ve had time to tackle the backroom projects that I’ve had waiting for me. I’ve actually cleaned-out some filing cabinets in order to transfer old records to storage. I’ve packed-up all—okay, most—of my creative/crafting supplies so I can relocate them to my “studio space.”

Studio space? This is the room in our house formerly known as “the back porch,” which it was . . . a long, long time ago. It was enclosed –poorly—at some point in its history and we’ve yet to assign it a proper name or use. It serves as the catch-all storage area, but I continuously try to claim it for my creative space. We will see if that claim stands-up to time and the forces of nature working against it. (By “nature” I am referring to my tendency to keep things well-beyond my ability to remember why I thought I needed them; it’s my nature to be a borderline hoarder.)

As much as I am sure you’d enjoying reading a complete list of all the items I parted with this week, suffice to say I hope my Recycle Clarksville serviceman didn’t suffer an injury when he picked-up the stack of magazines I set-out in the bins this morning. Anyone who knows me knows I have a weakness for magazines, so this was a big move. I tossed my high school yearbooks years ago, but I feel sure I still have a few magazines from the years I graduated!

During the course of all of this cleaning and recycling, I continued transitioning the seasonal décor throughout the house. I like to think I’m done, but I usually do some tweaking right up until it’s time to store it again.

One of my favorite decorating elements is framed art. I like to use vintage art which reflects the season, as you can see in the photograph of my favorite mantel decked out for fall. Here I’ve propped a vintage print of a pair of colorful grouse. I keep an eye out for items such as this at flea markets. This rotation method—changing art with the season—is ideal for our home, as we are concerned our walls may eventually cave in under the weight of all the art we have purchased. Heaven forbid I just say I’ve got enough—not gonna happen!

As for our living room mantel, I decided to make just a few changes this year. My dear friend had recently given me the home altar with the image of Mary on it and I’m not quite ready to put it away, so it serves as the anchor. Beyond that, I just added a few candles in the shape of pinecones, wrapped my battery-operated candles in burlap and switched-out the homemade pomanders for some oats.

 

 

 

I always leave my velvet pumpkins on display, so they are not seasonal, but the branches of bittersweet are the provisional accent the pumpkins needed. The decorated bottle on the floor lamp is a leftover from this past winter—it escaped my notice for a few months, then I just couldn’t be bothered to carry it to the storage area; but I did dust it!

 

                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                

Finally, I’m offering a picture of one of my favorite decorations of the season—my turkey. This is one of those things I had in the shop because I truly loved it and wanted in my home. This happens occasionally; I buy something for the shop because I really would like to have it in my own home, but know that I need to try to sell it. Most of the time, I can happily send inventory home with my customers, but as we sold out of these (I only ordered four), I became very nervous. When we were down to one remaining, I found myself just grabbing it on the way out of the door one evening. I am so glad I did! I love the presence of this guy. This year I’ve placed him in the entry hall along with arrangement of dried lavender and oats and another velvet pumpkin. Perfect.

 

 

 

 

A few other pictures not offered in the newspaper:

“Falling” Productive

This is the column I wrote for The Leaf Chronicle, which appeared in the Sunday, Oct 20, 2013 edition.

As I sat down at the computer to write my column for this week, I posted my confession on facebook. I was there (on facebook) and elsewhere looking for inspiration. I had several suggestions for topics for my article, but mostly just some friends aiding and abetting my delinquency. I did have one friend who made a suggestion which was along the lines of what I was thinking already, so Ruta, here you go . . .

I am finding, as I usually do this time of year, that I am rather productive. There is something about fall that motivates me; even the rainy days. I’ll take a rainy day in October over a sunny day in August every time! Perhaps it is the cooler weather, the fresh breeze blowing through the shop and the house or the excitement of the coming season. Whatever the reason, it seems to come in the nick-of-time each year.

At the shop, I’ve finally started clearing out some of the “stuff” I’ve allowed to accumulate over the years. I’m boxing up some of my creative supplies to take home or donate. I’ve found I don’t have a lot of time for creative activities while at work—well, at least not this type of creativity. This will have the added benefit of clearing some shelves so we can lay-out our Christmas inventory and get it ready to move to the floor in a few weeks; yes, I’m sorry . . . I’m a retailer.

At home, I’ve been trying to accomplish some of the same. I’ve got a donate box, a storage box and the trashcan! As I transition to my fall décor, it is the perfect time to do a little weeding. Of course, this is a slower process than at the store; things are pretty clear cut there—get it on the floor to sell, donate it or throw it away. At the house I slow down. There’s so much more to consider. I’ve got children getting ready to move out of the house—eventually—so I have to consider things which might be useful in their first apartments.

Then, of course, I have to consider the Antiques Road Show. I know you know what I mean. You’re looking at that pitcher that Aunt Ethel gave you for your wedding. You’ve never used it—not even to hold flowers. This time it’s getting donated, but . . . as you place it in the box you notice the marking on the bottom. What does that say? “W. Germany.” Then you’re thinking, where did I hear something about that? If there is a “W” that clearly means is once belonged to the former President, right??? No, that wasn’t it. Think. Right, it means “West Germany.” That place no longer exists! I’ll bet it’s worth something! Wouldn’t that be a shame to donate it, to later watch as some stranger shows-up on the Antiques Road Show with the pitcher Aunt Ethel so thoughtfully chose for you?

So, umm, yeah. Back to how productive I’ve been.

While my daydreams tend to gain some footing, I still feel like I’ve made great strides at the shop and at home. I’ve been slowly adding decorative fall accents throughout the house; they will be firmly in place until after Thanksgiving. Christmas does not encroach on our orderly observation of holidays at the house. (Heck, I’m lucky to have the tree decorated by December 25^th!)

Since I like to share ideas for transitional décor you might want to use in your own home, I’ll close by sharing a picture of the mantel in our dining room. This is one of my favorite places to focus our seasonal décor for several reasons. It is the first room I see when I walk out of our bedroom, it is where we do most of our entertaining and I can also see it from the room where I spend most of my waking hours—the kitchen.

Several weeks ago, I was ready to remove the summer accents I had used to adorn it for the season, but not quite ready for Indian corn and pumpkins, so I decided to add some items that would carry through until Thanksgiving, while giving a nod to the fading summer days. I started with a few books stacked on their side—choosing those with colors that reflected my transitional theme. Then I added brown pillar candles and a hand decorated emergency candle (similar to the one I gave instructions for last week), as well as a few rusty iron accents. The final touch—the hydrangeas I dried a few weeks ago. I left them in the aqua ball jars, because the colors worked so well with the shades of blues and greens in the hydrangeas. I loved this display so much, I was hesitant to take it down for my full-blown autumn mantel, but I do look forward to using the dried blooms again next year.

Next week, I’ll share more pictures of my home and how I decorate for this most wonderful time of year.

Retiring Thoughts

This is the column I wrote for The Leaf Chronicle which was originally published on Oct 6, 2013.

Last week I was fortunate enough to steal away for a long weekend with my husband, so we traveled south to visit friends in Fort Walton Beach, FL. This is our fourth time visiting them in two years, which is a lot for us; between the business and my husband’s jobs we just don’t get away much. By comparison, however, we have traveled to see these friends with more frequency than any others and not just because they have a house on the water (wink, wink). The truth is that neither of us are really “Florida people,” but we love the Florida people we go to see.

 

 

 

 

 

When we met at college in NC, we both agreed that neither of us were very fond of the idea of living in the other’s home town. My husband is from Pompano Beach, FL and I’m from Fairfax, VA. Florida is too hot for me and has too few seasons; Fairfax is too congested and expensive for him.

Shortly after graduating, we married and my husband joined the Army, so we’ve lived wherever Uncle Sam suggested. Virginia and Florida never made the list. Landing here in Clarksville has been a great blessing and we feel so fortunate to have had the opportunity to purchase our dream home and become entrenched in a community. Any subsequent thoughts of retirement have featured our old house.

We’ve always thought our retirement plans would involve the eastern shore of Virginia. It has been our number one vacation destination for years and years, but now we plan for vacations in the Florida panhandle. What the heck is going on here?

Darren on the beach in Coles Point, VA

Well, I haven’t completely figured it out, but I’ve pieced together a couple factors to consider. Number one on the list of considerations: What do you do when you get there? I mean “long term,” not during a week-long vacation. Those vacations on the eastern shore are wonderful, but they are low key. We don’t do much, because there isn’t much to do; which is great for a week, but any longer than that and I’ll go nuts.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

It takes a lot of this . . . (above), to get to this . . .(below).

 

Bill and Darren doing what they do best; Haedyn, too, for that matter.

 

Next consideration: the weather. The climate was my number one reason for putting the kibosh on Florida so many years ago. I need some variations in temperatures—hot being my least favorite. While I love the change of seasons, I really do enjoy being on the water; in a month or two you won’t be taking a boat out on the Chesapeake Bay unless it is your job. We were on the Choctawhatchee Bay in the middle of January last year. So, as much as we love the Virginia eastern shore, the window of water enjoyment time is really about 5 - 6 months; in the Bay area of Florida, you can hit the water year round.

(Can’t you just see that metaphorical scale tipping?)

One seemingly minor consideration, but worth adding to the list: the seasonable weather during months with “r’s” in them. Oysters taste better while seated at an outdoor table and outdoor dining on the Virginia coast in during the months of November – April is almost unheard of. Further, both areas have oysters, but the fresh oysters available in Florida are ginormous.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Some JP Penney poses as we arrive at the Dockside Grill in FL.

The biggest factor weighing in this new found fondness for the sunshine state is reality. The reality is we cannot afford two households. So, when we make the decision about where to retire, it is there we will be. No weekend houses or summer homes for us.

 

Fortunately, however, this is not a decision for anytime in the immediate future. We’ve still got a high school student we need to push through and some college tuition to take care of, a few house repairs to tend to and so on. Suffice to say that I look forward to seeing you Wednesday mornings when I’m taking advantage of my senior citizen discounts at Kroger on Madison Street; be sure to stop me and say, “Hi!”

(Of course, none of it matters without this . . .)

PPRP not for wimps

This is the column I wrote for The Leaf Chronicle which originally published on Sep 29, 2013.

I have no idea what came over me, but earlier this week I started cutting, pulling and digging in my front flower beds. I thought I’d take advantage of the rain we had recently had, by pulling weeds. (By the way—how long did it take me to figure out that it is easier to pull weeds after a good rain?) Then, next thing I knew, I had the wheelbarrow out, loading it with transplants, as well as several loads of an unidentified, but very prolific tall, leafy perennial—bound for the dump.

If memory serves, I actually ordered that plant when we first moved to Dog Hill. I love tall plants in my garden and the description for this beast must have fit the bill. Well, about 10 years later, having completely forgotten its name, transplanted it and given it away (sounding familiar), I have decided—it’s got to go. Now is the time of year it produces its tiny white, dandelion puff-like flowers, so I had to act quickly.

before

I grabbed the shovel and started digging down to remove the root and all. Hours later—with a few other plants entered into our PPRP (Paige’s Perennial Relocation Program)—I think I’ve got them down to a few single-stems located throughout our yard, as well as our neighbors.

And now, a word about qualifying for PPRP. This isn’t a program suited for all perennials. No—PRP is for survivors. To be selected for PRP, you must have a growth rate which requires a slide rule for tracking. Other qualifications include: the ability to survive with minimal attention/pruning/grooming; the ability to look fairly decent for at least a few weeks out of the year (thus justifying the effort the caretaker will put into moving you); and finally, you must grab hold of your new soil with very little encouragement from your caretaker.

You see, by the time I’ve decided to relocate or just divide a perennial, my sparkler of enthusiasm for gardening is starting to fizzle. I’m not sure why, but it’s usually the last thing I do before I quit for the day; I’m exhausted, sweaty and itchy. So, the last thing I want to do it dig a hole, loosen the soil and water a plant I am, at this point, wondering why I ever planted. At best, I will remove approximately three inches of the soil (which is usually mostly mulch), drop the plant into the shallow crevice and head for the shower with nary a backwards glance.

after

Believe me when I tell you, however, you would be surprised at the hardiness of those plants which have survived the rigors of the PPRP; many of which have been the subject of previous diatribes—namely, Lamb’s Ear and Asters. Sunday’s victim, however, was relocated to the dump pile. Perhaps it was because we’re not on a first name basis; perhaps it was the audacity it demonstrated by jumping into pots and across the yard into other gardens; perhaps it is the fact that I know—even though I think I pulled it all up—fluffy, little, white seeds are currently waiting for spring to pop-up and declare their survivor status.

Writer’s notes:  Yesterday, a friend at church told me she knew what the plant in question is actually a weed!  She has done battle with it in her own garden and was so frustrated by it, her husband took a sample to our local university for identification.  They told her it is a Mulberry weed.  I googled it today and she is right on the money!  Here’s a blog I found about it.

Strong Backs and My Weak Mind

This is my column for The Leaf Chronicle which was originally published Sep 22, 2013.

Time to write the column.

Don’t worry; this will not be another scary dive into my not-to-sub-conscience. Yet, I do feel I need to acknowledge all of the emails, Tweets and face-to-face commentary from my numerous kindred spirits. It is wonderful to know I am in such great company, especially when it comes to my occasional struggles with focus. I am glad you enjoyed last week’s column.

This past week I have been all about fall decorating. The shop has commanded most of my attention, but I’ve made a few changes around the house, as well. We are in the process of a few house repairs and improvements, which have my mind and time somewhat preoccupied.

About a month ago, I wrote about the fact that we—by “we” I mean “my husband”—wanted to extend our patio walkway down the side of our house so it would link to our front porch. I was not very keen on this idea, but I decided that I could at least appear to give his idea some thought before I squashed it like the ground under a cherry picker.

Which brings me to the reason there is a new walkway in our side yard—the ground which was squashed under a cherry picker. Oops, I mean, “man lift;” and while we’re on that, why “man lift?” Shouldn’t it be “person lift?” Okay—squashed ground—the area where we installed this new walkway was the site of a gazillion ton person lift making 20-point adjustment turns for two weeks. The lawn in that area suffered considerably; not that it ever produced the thickest, most durable grass. So I decided that the new pathway might be a good idea after all.

Enter the young, healthy backs of the guys we hired to relocate the dirt and lay the new walkway. They arrived eager and ready to get the job done. Three days later, when they are still trying to break through the gravel and occasional outcropping of concrete, they seemed a little less eager and frankly, a little deflated. It appears that the area we had chosen for our walkway extension was exactly where a gravel driveway had once been located.

This is when it comes to me . . . that herb garden I planted the first year we moved into our house is located along the same path and I now recall the difficulty I had digging the bed for that garden. (In my defense, I can’t remember why I walked into the pantry instead of the laundry room this morning either.) My only explanation is one akin to child birth; no new projects would be tackled in our old house if we were actually able to recall how difficult the last one was.

Of course, my husband is the guy who laid the rest of our pathway and patio, not me. Perhaps he did not-so-sub-consciously recall encountering the gravel, which is why he suggested that I engage a contractor to do this portion of the walkway. Hmm.

Anyhoo, this is where I eat my words and admit, though I begrudgingly gave into the idea of the pathway extension, I l-o-v-e it; or rather will, l-o-v-e it, when I can plant around it. My husband is still working on painting on this side of our house and there is no point in planting a bunch of flowers to be crushed by ladders and size 11.5 work boots.

In the meantime, I will use strategically placed potted ferns and mums (see how I pulled it back around to fall decorating?) to distract my eyes from the bare ground.

Tobacco Barns and Porch Decor

Sep 30, 2012

This past weekend marked the arrival of my favorite time of year. I am a fall fan for sure and have been enjoying everything I possibly can about preparing for this time of year.

A few weeks ago I went in search of something new to use for my front porch décor at the house. While on the hunt, I came across a bunch of tobacco baskets and knew instantly I would use one as the anchor for my new display.

One of my favorite harbingers of this season is when the barns used for smoking tobacco start emitting their seasonal scents. I am sure there are many non-natives who have a story about seeing a smoking barn and wondering if they should dial 9-1-1. I know I took pause when I first saw one; a quick call to a “local” allayed my fears.

Smoking season is here again and I adore scent that fills the air. In fact, my favorite scented candle is called Bergamot Tobacco, which sounds a little off-putting if you are not familiar with the intoxicating scent of tobacco being smoked in preparation for sale.

After procuring several of these baskets, I became a little more curious about the process, so I called a friend, Anne Head, whose family has been in the tobacco business for many years; she gave me the low down. After harvesting the tobacco, leaf-by-leaf, farmers then tie the leaves together in bunches, hang them from sticks and place the filled sticks in the tiers of the tobacco barn. The farmers then commence to smoking/curing the tobacco to achieve the golden brown color. Tobacco baskets are no longer used, but would have been—at this point—loaded with the smoked leaves and taken to market.

As they are no longer employed for their intended use, folks have been finding alternative uses for them since the late 70s. I, naturally, look at them for their decorative qualities. They are attractive works of basketry art in and of themselves, but it is rare that I can leave a surface unadorned.

I immediately thought of my antique pitch fork, which I found on one of my flea marketing excursions in Germany, as the perfect accent for my developing fall front porch display. Unfortunately, it was one of those tools/toys my son found irresistible as he was reenacting the mob scene from Beauty and the Beast or later, the battle scene at the end of Braveheart; which is likely why I found it in pieces on a hill in our backyard. Plan B—find another pitch fork.

Another fall arrangement I’ve fallen in love with is one that Patty Stinnett encouraged me to try. She found our inspirational picture on Pinterest (yup—I’m talking about Pinterest again); it involved turning a vintage floor lamp into a planter. As I have entirely too many dysfunctional vintage floor lamps—I decided to try this project.

I used a floor lamp that had a place for a center bulb and three arms for additional lights. I then altered a hanging wire basket so it would slide down and rest on the arms. I used a coconut shell liner and then added my plants. The inspiration picture showed the planter filled with gorgeous succulents, but I was using my planters to decorate for a fall themed function, so I used mums with ornamental kales and cabbages. I also added an aqua-colored canning jar in the center in order to add candlelight to my floor lamp planter. I used plastic tie-wraps to secure the baskets to the arms of the lamp. They are a little tippy, so I don’t think this is something I would recommend this project for a house full of little ones or frisky pets. I will, however, be adding one of these to the display on my front porch. Once again I am sorry I don’t have a picture of the finished product, but I promise to add it to the blog.

I hope you are enjoying the smell of tobacco smoke, the sight of mums popping-up everywhere and, of course, the cooler temperatures. I’ll have a few more ideas to share next week.

chicken condos

Sep 9, 2012

I am not sure how closely you follow the goings on at our City Council meetings, but I just heard that the new ordinance (ord 6-2012-13) permitting Clarksville residents to have chickens (only 6) in their backyard just passed its second reading. Way cool!

I’ve always thought it would be interesting to have a few chickens. I am especially fascinated by Ameraucana and Cochin varieties. The Ameraucana lays lovely eggs and the Cochin is just lovely—looking almost regal with its feathered legs. The thing I love most about the prospect of raising chickens, however, is building one of those coops that appear as though you’d host your own tea parties in it. I would love it!

Have you had the occasion to see some of these structures? If not, I will refer you to the internet. Pinterest is a good start; I’ve got my own board I titled “In the Henhouse.” They are charming and could actually increase property values in many neighborhoods—including ours!

My interest in chickens actually developed while we were living overseas. When we moved to Germany, one of the first things I did was attending the course for drivers’ license training. It was in this class I was taught to treat chickens with reverence, as we were informed that should we be unfortunate enough to run over and kill a German farmer’s chicken, we would have to compensate said farmer for the chicken. But that’s not all—we were informed we could also expect to pay said farmer for the anticipated progeny of the deceased chicken. As chickens continue laying eggs into the teens, this could be a very expensive incident. Thus, I became very alert to and aware of chickens.

Also, we were frequent visitors of the zoos in Germany (our kids were that age)—our favorite zoo was south of Heidelberg and had the best exotic chickens! (The kids would drag as to see the chimps and lions; I would drag them to the chickens.)

By now, my neighbors are probably a little worried about chickens moving in, but they need not. I said I would love to have one, I’d also love to have a 2 karat, sapphire cut diamond, but . . . well, okay—chickens are more likely.

I understand many folks feel it is a crazy notion to want to raise chickens “in the city limits” but let me quell some of your fears. By adhering to the restrictions established by the ordinance, your neighbor could raise chickens and you would likely never know. They are quiet birds—generally just clucking, save a few squawks when laying eggs. Most city folks wanting to raise chickens do so for the eggs—crowing roosters are not part of that plan, nor are they permitted. The issue of the odors associated with the birds is virtually non-existent considering the limit on numbers. Chickens must be tended daily and responsible owners know they must keep a clean coop in order to keep their hens healthy. Plus, the poop is great for gardens, so your chicken raising neighbor will likely have a flourishing garden, as well. If you’re nice to them you will likely benefit from their efforts when they leave eggs and zucchini on your porch!

Just When I Thought I was Accomplishing Something

Motivation is a good thing. Sometimes we have external motivators; others, we create for ourselves. Last week I created my own when I told your lovely readers about my woeful neglect of my home. My confessions resulted in a level of activity around my house I haven’t been able to claim since Christmas!

Last Sunday I woke-up and began my usual level of cleaning—it’s my day to clean our bathroom. Whoopee! Then I decided to take it to the next level and began dusting the family room. Pleased with my efforts and results I moved, duster in hand, to the office and through the entry hall. Having exhausted the heroic efforts of my little dust grabbing cloth, I then shifted gears and headed outside to salvage some plants that have not already surrendered to the heat.

That is when I found my husband, diligently toiling away on the house. You see, several years ago he began his one man crusade to preserve our old house. His first major project was our roof. The front of our house has a standing seam metal roof, which we want to try to preserve. When we noticed some leaks, we immediately began researching methods for preserving a metal roof. Darren settled on a product that he painted onto the roof. For a week, he was perched on a rented cherry picker with a rubberized paint product and mesh tape. He worked diligently, all-day, each day of his “vacation” to salvage the roof of G.B. Wilson’s house.

Now, during his break between jobs, he is back to the tedious job of scraping 130 years worth of paint off of the wood siding of that same house. This is an on-going job. He has slowly, but surely been working his way around the house, heat gun and spatula in hand, removing the paint which has been baking onto the surface of our historic home.

 

(this is the before—at the bottom of the pic; after scraping—the mid, yellowish tone; and after the primer has been applied.)

I feel sure I have mentioned this before, but just in case you missed it . . . I love our house. I’ve wanted to own an historic home for longer than I can remember. Mom and Dad brought us up on “This Old House;” we were watching when Bob Villa was cool.

Funny story: Darren and I were living in Richmond Hill, GA when Steve Thomas and crew were renovating a house on an historic Savannah Square. My sisters came to visit us for St. Patrick’s Day—a pretty big day in Savannah. Well, we went out and did what you do on St.Patrick’s Day; by that I mean we ate corned beef and potatoes. What?!?

Anyhoo, we were on our way home (don’t worry, my sister, who doesn’t eat corned beef OR potatoes) was driving and we had the brilliant idea to drive by the project house. Next thing I knew, we were pulling-up and the sisters were running up the stairs for a photo! We couldn’t wait to share this photo with Mom & Dad! Of course we were hoping Norm would walk out of the front door and pose with us, but alas, he was a no show. We were this close to fame!

Okay—so back to present time. Darren shares my love for historic homes, but I don’t think he really wanted to be this involved or perhaps, he thought I’d be doing more to help. I make my contributions, but I can assure you, I do not have the “sweat equity” Darren has invested. My help involves interior paint colors and furnishings. I do help with a few of the maintenance projects, but they really don’t stack against scraping paint in desert heat!

(Here is my dedicated man, heat gun in hand, scraping under the eaves.  He’s a keeper.)