A House Becomes A Home - The Next Room

And another room completed and a house slowly becomes a home.

We scrubbed and scrubbed. Over and over, layer upon layer, breaking the protein molecules and busting the smell, and not just the floor, the walls too. As the shearer and I remained on our knees, Cindy fetched bucket after bucket just like Mickey Mouse in The Sorcerers' Apprentice.

It wasn't enough, the slate on the hearth had to go....

and then the next two layers of hearth and the soil from beneath that.

(Read about it here)

Finally everything is coated in the shellac based primer Bin-zinser and the carpet can finally go down. Huge thanks also must go to our dear friends G&M (you know who you are) who came down and helped us several weekends with painting and fencing and feeding!

The large mirror reflects back light into what was once the original kitchen adding space to the room. A "nook" is created within the original cooking fireplace and the original swinging arm that once held pots and kettles will be the ideal spot for Christmas stockings. The unusual cushion from my daughter last Christmas made from a vintage linen tea towel seems very appropriate in our new country home.

The door from the bread oven is wire brushed and liberally coated with rust converter and then coated in black paint, restoring it back to it's former looks. The domed brick bread oven is several feet wide and deep within and would have been used to bake many loaves supplying a good many houses in the area and perhaps travellers.

While it would be great to fire it up for "pizza Fridays" (one of our long term traditions) it would just not be practical due to the size and amount of wood needed to create coals. Besides, before we can light any fires there is an awful lot of straw in the roof space to be cleaned out yet from decades of starlings nests! 

We are half un-packed and familiar things surround us once more helping us assimilate into the new space. My most treasured possessions are those made by friends and family; Matty's footstool, Cliffy's wooden box, great-grandma Murray's blanket.... 

This is not the pages of Home Beautiful and my life is real. There will be no purging and I have no need to make my home era appropriate. It is the helping hands, the generous hearts and the objects of love that make a house a home. A lifetime to collect memories. It has taken me decades to learn that and be content. We are so blessed.

And the work continues....

next

in the attic....