Back Porch/Playroom-Schoolroom: BEFORE

 Oh, it is such fun to tear off something old and discover something even OLDER underneath.  Goodbye, strange pre-drywall wood-shaving-composite panels... hello, old beadboard and original exterior siding.  (This room used to be a back porch, probably added in the 1920's or 30's, before the exterior siding was covered by stucco.)

Part of me hates to lose the vintage clown wallpaper, but it's faded and stained and torn in spots.  Time to move on.

A coat of off-white paint (Behr's Elegant Ivory, which is on the trim throughout the house and still available in Home Depot's computers although no longer on the paint samples) has already fixed up this beadboard nicely... just one wall (the siding) and the ceiling left.  I'm going to try to leave the old, weathered turquoise up on the trim.  Hope it doesn't contrast in a nasty way with the brand new paint.  We'll see.

Encounter with the Grave

Boy, that sounds dramatic.

A couple of weeks ago, my family journeyed down to the Ponca area to hike Lost Valley and meet up with our family.  Cousins trooped through the woods together, but because of a mild foot injury, I was pretty sure that a long hike over uneven terrain would prove painful for me.  I backed out of the hike and explored the valley a bit instead.

First, a stop at the Elk Center in Ponca, where I found the Ernsts' book on Arkansas hikes for kids and an Audubon stuffed animal replica of the Ivory-Billed Woodpecker (my favorite) with an authentic call that sounds when you press its back.  Yay!

Next, I drove through the valley, stopped for a bit to watch the elk herds and take a few (bad, long-distance) photos, then drove into the Boxley Valley Baptist church to get a better look at their historic building.  I'd read in Michael Dougherty's blog that restoration was badly needed, and boy is that ever the case.  It was a little heartbreaking to see the decay of one of Arkansas' historic landmarks.  If a restoration drive starts up, I think I'd like to help.




I decided to wander through the little graveyard at the church before I returned to Lost Valley to meet the crew.  I love old cemeteries.  People's stories fascinate me, and strolling through rows of old tombstones always gives me amazing glimpses of so many past lives (and ways of life).  I can't quite explain why, but I find it somehow centering.

So, I'm wandering through the tombstones, noting various family names from the area, when I spot one from a couple of rows away that literally sends a little jolt through me.  "PERME," reads a large and fairly recent stone.  Several around it say Perme as well.  I approach, and confirm what I can hardly believe:  I've stumbled upon the graves of Elizabeth and Joe Perme, the second owners of our home.

I only have a sketch of the Permes in my head, gleaned from what their daughters told us as we bought the house:  Joe was a World War II veteran, a Navy carpenter who was practical, resourceful, and perhaps a bit muleheaded.  He worked for the Buffalo River National Park, I believe as a maintenance supervisor.  Our home is full of his creative enhancements:  he added closets, shelves, workbenches, shelves, kitchen cabinets.  He also notched out a beam so that he wouldn't bash his head, added a chin-up bar in the basement, curved the corner of the bottom basement step so that you couldn't bruise your shin on it as you carry laundry up and down.  He once took advantage of his wife's absence to cut a hole in our kitchen/dining room wall so that he could reach through to get the phone-- although the doorway's only about six inches to the left of the hole. (His wife, they say, was livid.)  I think of him fondly as I move through our house, seeing how much love and time he obviously poured into it.

Elizabeth was his wartime wife, a German woman who was a tidy housekeeper.  Her stove, an old gas Kenmore from the 1960s or so, was in meticulous condition when we moved in (sadly, we are messier cooks then she).  They were thrifty people.  Their carpet was over 40 years old; their bathroom sink had been cracked on its installation in the 1980s and was never replaced, but still holds water perfectly due to their patching.  I know that they lost their only son while living here; he was killed in a motorcycle accident in Ponca, going to visit his newly married twin sister.  I've found a little ceramic baseball mitt and an old plastic squirtgun in the basement, and thought of the pain they must have experienced together in this house.

My affection for them (and the Wilsons, the house's first owners) is rather ardent.  So finding their resting place was a bit like seeing a ghost, or a flash of deja vu... a bit spooky, a bit startling.

After I got past my surprise, I took a moment and thanked them for their house, the love they had for it and for their family, and how much I feel blessed to be living in their home of over 40 years.

It was a lovely conclusion to my little solo excursion.  

Exterior paint job... finished at last.

Daniel, our excellent, meticulous painter, has finally completed our exterior paint job.  Here's a before:  (I think the house has always been white or off-white)

And here's an after:

 

He found surprisingly little rot considering how bare some of the window woodwork was.  We chose colors from Benjamin Moore, Daniel's paint of choice.

(Woodwork:  Shaker Beige.  Walls:  Great Barrington Green.  Door:  Country Redwood.  I love BM's Cottage Red, but with the door in the shade of the porch so much of the day, we went a few shades lighter to get the same effect from the street.  Very happy with the results!)

Our dog, naturally, has cheerfully begun to wear the paint off the front door with her nails, right through the new red AND old white paint, right down to the wood.  I want to kill her.

Still left to do:  stripping off the ravenous garage-eating ivy enough to repaint the eaves in the Shaker Beige.  (No immediate plans for this, unfortunately; we have more pressing matters to attend to inside.)

Some befores...

We first were introduced to our house in 2006.

living room

When we first spotted the classified ad in the local paper and came by for a look, the house was cleaned out but largely still decorated in the belongings of its elderly owners, the Permes. He was a WWII Navy carpenter, handy and practical; she was his German wartime wife, a meticulous housekeeper.

dining room

Almost all the window woodwork was painted the same pastel as the walls and/or covered by the window treatments... an attempt, I imagine, to make it look more modern.  Before we even moved in, we removed yards and yards of fabric and dozens of curtain rods and brackets, and began repairing broken window sashes and repainting that beautiful woodwork.  I'm still living with sheets for curtains in our bedroom, but hey... at least I can see the mullions and the molding.

what would become our "master" bedroom

...we loved the house and saw its potential, but obviously, we had our work cut out for us.

kitchen