Our Farmhouse Porch in the Summer

 

 During the seventies, the weekly TV show "The Waltons" was a hit at our house.  I loved their big family, their white farmhouse in the mountains, and especially their huge front porch.  I remember Grandma shelling peas while sitting on the porch rocker, Mary Ellen complaining about her life while lounging on the porch swing, and Mama greeting everyone with a smile on her front porch as she welcomed them in.  I dreamed of having their life...but maybe with a bit more money and some nicer clothes.  

I had a vision for our own front porch many years ago when I got our large porch swing as a Mother's Day gift, which was much more enjoyable than the clothesline I received for that same holiday a couple of years earlier.

 

The vision continued as I received my first porch rocker for another Mother's Day gift and had the porch floor replaced in 2014.  Then in 2015 we finally repainted it, and this year I woke up on Mother's Day to a second porch rocker so that I now have the symmetry my OCD self yearned for.

 

After acquiring the porch rockers from Cracker Barrel, the final part of my dream involved sheer white curtains.  This proved to be a more challenging task than I ever imagined because there are iron poles connected to either ends of our porch.  Those poles can't be removed, and their height and width aren't your typical window size.

 

I figured I could either buy shower curtains or long drapes with grommets.  That way I could attach them with shower hooks.  It turned out that none of the shower curtains were long enough, and I would have to purchase at least three window panels for each side.  I didn't want to spend a lot of money since these would be outside in the elements all summer.  I thought it would be easy to find what I was looking for.  I was wrong.  I went to TJ Maxx, Home Goods, Target, Bed Bath & Beyond, but I couldn't find what I wanted.  Everything was either too thick or too expensive or not the right size or there weren't enough in stock or not grommet style.  So I finally patronized the one story that everyone else I know frequents but that I avoid at all costs: Walmart.  And it was there that I found the exact sheer panels I was looking for with the grommet openings for only $7/panel.  And as luck would have it, they had exactly six of them.  Then my daughter and I found these cute shower hooks that we thought would look perfect to hang them, so we bought three packages of them too for $8/package.

I was so excited to get home and hang these curtains on these shower hooks that were rust-proof and guaranteed to not slip out of the shower curtains.  What was I thinking?!  These work perfectly with shower curtains that have slits for openings, but they are obviously not made to hold grommet-style curtains.  This was definitely one of my most daft moments.  I ran upstairs to our bathroom and tore down our shower curtain so I could use the cheap, round, clear plastic hooks.  Then I searched the bathroom closet because I knew I had extra hooks in there.  Unfortunately, they were the same style as the ones I just bought, only very corroded.  So I hurried up to the cabin and took down that shower curtain as well.  I still needed another twelve round curtain hooks.  I turned around and there on the shelf was another package of mismatched shower curtain hooks...but only nine of them.  I brought them all down to the house and hung the curtains with what I had, dreading to go back to Walmart to buy yet another package of these stupid hooks.  You can't just get them individually; it's a package of twelve or none at all.

 

So with the aid of my youngest daughter (who had Cowboy Day at school that morning), we hung the curtains and did a quick photo shoot with three grommets not attached to the iron pole.  And the hooks were of all different styles and colors.

 

That evening I had to take our son and his friend to a middle school dance, so after dropping them off, I headed back to Walmart.  I had a great time because I had my best friend along, and we chatted and chatted, not really paying attention to anything around us.  We just enjoyed some girl time out away from most of our children (my teen daughter tagged along in hopes of a trip to the mall.)  I went through the self-checkout line and bought the $1.26 package of clear, round, plastic curtain hooks, and shoved the receipt in my purse as I eyed the tiki torches near the exit and continued talking with my friend.  It was a fun night for all of us, but when I got home and looked for the shower hooks to finish hanging my curtains, I couldn't find them anywhere.  And I realized that I left them at the checkout in Walmart while I was busy conversing with my friend.

 

So the next day I went to Ollie's and bought the same hooks for 

$.95 and kicked myself for not shopping there for them to begin with.

 

The curtains were hung, and my vision was complete.  However, I hadn't given much thought to how I would keep them in place.  The winds just whip them around everywhere.  My friend told me her aunt sewed rocks into the bottoms of her porch curtains.  I placed some of our larger river stones in the bottom pockets of these sheer drapes, but all that did was create noise as they scraped and rolled across the porch floor.  Then when it got super windy, they flew up and around, and those river stones went flying.  My white sheer curtains became weapons directed at anyone out there on the porch.  So I've given up and just allow them to float and wave and fly wherever the wind takes them.  Porch sitters just have to get used to the curtains brushing over their shoulders or their heads as they sit and read and drink their coffee or G & T's.

 

A few finishing touches were added.  Two hanging baskets arrived from my children as additional Mother's Day gifts this year.

 

And when I couldn't decide what to place in the empty space next to the front door, I decided to use the picnic basket we got as a wedding gift and my husband's work boots that are a bit scruffy but not currently coated in manure.  The food was just for the photo shoot, of course; most of the time it's filled with one of our annoying cats who end up using my porch displays every season for their beds.

 

Now my vision is complete for the summer where our front porch is concerned.  This is where I chose to celebrate my 48th birthday this past week as I relaxed in a sundress with a glass of Chardonnay in the early evening.  I suppose this is my version of being on the Waltons' porch in the Appalachians, only with wine instead of the Baldwin sisters' "recipe."

Our Farmhouse Kitchen Facelift

 

 Our 1886 farmhouse kitchen has undergone a renovation.  No walls were torn down; no addition was constructed; and no cabinets were replaced.  But to me, it looks and feels like I have a brand new kitchen.  

 

 If you recall, this is what our kitchen looked like a week after Christmas.

 

 Four days later after we moved everything out, the kitchen looked like this.

 

Here we are on day three of the renovation with painting well underway.

 

 Week two began with the white pine floors being sanded and broken boards replaced.

 

By the end of week two the floor was nearly finished.

 

As we entered week three, finishing touches were made, the new white cast iron sink was installed, and the floor received a second coat of polyurethane finish.

 

When everything was finished after two and a half weeks, our contractor and his assistant were kind enough to move the appliances and furniture back into the kitchen for us.  I was too afraid of marking up the walls and floor, not to mention that what took us three hours to move, they did in twenty minutes.

 

So this was before...

 

 ...and this was on the last day when they were finishing up.

 

Before...

 

...After (I love that this sink is twice as deep as the old one.)

 

Before...

 

...After 

 

A month ago, our very lived-in kitchen looked like this.

 

But today it looks like this.

 

Then...

 

...And Now.  I lowered the leaf in the table so there is much more space in this room.

 

Earlier this month...

 ...and at the end of this month.

This facelift was the best thing I've ever had done.  It is everything I envisioned, and this construction business was superb.  They took my list of what I dreamed of and made it a reality.  I wasn't sure how these old pine floor boards would look once they were stripped and sanded, but they're beautiful now---even with their lasting imperfections.  I'm not sure they'll make it through another refinishing project though.  Once the countertops were sanded, we opted for no stain or varnish, but we're coating them with oil instead so they are safe for placing food on.  Our contractor purchased the paint, stain, and satin polyurethane finish from Sherwin Williams.  The Kohler sink we bought at Home Depot.

I love this room so much that I often sit on that bench in front of the window and read a book or blog at the kitchen table.  It's become my favorite and brightest room of our house, even on these gray, cloudy days of winter.

  Now if only I could relax and not fret that my husband and children are going to destroy it every time they walk through.

Organizing Those Open Shelves in the Farmhouse Kitchen

I have a love/hate relationship with the open shelves in our kitchen.  As the renovation continues, I debated whether or not to have solid cabinet doors made so everything could be hidden inside. I finally decided that they don't need to be enclosed, I just need to better organize our stuff.  So I have been on a quest to find organizers that will match our newly renovated kitchen and hopefully cut down on the messiness and clutter that our big family generates.

Much of what I was looking for could be found at Home Goods.  I brought along most of my children after school one day and we perused all the aisles and shelves of this store, along with Pier 1 and Michael's.  I love the white canisters with the chalkboard labels on the front, and these were the last two on display.  The metal basket with another chalkboard label will be used for storing boxes of teas and other miscellaneous items.  The glass canister with the wood lid will hold rice or quinoa so we don't have bags spilling out over the front of the shelves.  I would have preferred to buy a few more of those, but this was the last one.

Earlier this month, I picked up this white ceramic crock at Bed, Bath, & Beyond for holding various kitchen utensils instead of keeping them stuffed in a very cluttered drawer.  The three-tiered bamboo spice rack was purchased at Weis, and I may get a few more of these because this is only a small portion of the herbs and spices I regularly use.  I found the basket at Target and am using it to hold medicines, vitamins, bandaids, and first aid supplies that we always need to have on hand.  There are some really cool spice racks made from pallet boards on Pinterest that I might try to persuade my husband to build for me during his many hours of leisure.  (Just kidding, Hubby.)

I think that we might be moved back into our like-new kitchen by the end of the week. Time to start deciding what to hang on the freshly painted walls.  I might just leave them simple, clean, and bare for awhile.  I think the rest of the family would rather I spend the week planning what we'll have for dinner the first evening I have access to the stove and oven again.

I'll leave you with another peek at the kitchen project in progress.

This is the Crazy, Divine Story of How We Got This House

  

Scattered throughout years of ordinary life are these handfuls of supernatural events that remind me something much greater than myself is in charge.  Ten years ago today our family purchased, and moved into, this mountain farmhouse.  The complicated story of how this took place is one of those rare, miraculous events that only those closest to us know about.  Today I share it with you.

 

When we first began looking at houses in May of 2006, we had just listed our suburban South Carolina house with a realtor.  I was nearly seven months pregnant with our seventh child, and I hoped to be settled in a new house before his birth.  In the meantime, we were renting a beautiful, century-old Victorian house on the corner of a small town with two main roads up against the property.  It was a quaint town and a lovely house, but the roads and the pond were less than ideal for us since we had three toddlers and preschoolers at the time.  We called an old friend of the family (who happened to be a realtor) and set up a date to tour some houses.  My husband also searched the Internet and discovered this farmhouse had just been listed.  It looked perfect, except for the fact that it only had three bedrooms and one main bathroom.  We decided to put it on our list of possibilities.

That day in early May, we looked at numerous new houses in subdivisions, an interesting large house with several acres near a river (but no basement, attic, or any storage space whatsoever), and this mountain farmhouse.  We drove farther and farther out into the country, turned onto a gravel lane that wound through the woods, over a small bridge, and up the mountain.  And we arrived at this house on a sunny spring day.  The lilacs were in full bloom, and there were so many of them.  The pool was clear and shimmering.  The grass was a lush green, and the yard and property seemed to go on forever and disappear into the woods somewhere.  I was instantly in love, and I hadn't even walked into the house yet.

 

It just got better and better because there were covered porches, a split staircase, colonial colors and light fixtures, original doors and oak floors upstairs, and wide pine plank floors down.  Additionally, there was a full sized basement and attic to store all of our stuff and a large shed divided into a garage and another nearly-finished room with a loft above for storage and a lean-to for who knows what.  I thought it was perfect, and I never needed to look at another house again.  It didn't matter that it was over 120 years old.  Or that the basement sometimes flooded.  Or that the entire house had only one closet.  Or that a family of 7 was going to share one main bathroom on the top floor or have to venture down into the rustic basement to use the half-bath.  Or that it would take over six hours to mow all that grass if you had a riding lawn mower, which we didn't.

 

I was ready to make an offer right then and there.  But there was a glitch.  Our house in South Carolina hadn't sold yet.  We had a mortgage, installment loans on a minivan and remodeling of a bathroom in that SC house, and we were paying off the remainder of some student loans.  As depressing as it was, our lender informed us that we could only afford a house in a lower price range.  That was a very disappointing day, to say the least.

 

So we spent the next two-three months with the realtor all over the county looking at cheaper houses.  We didn't like any of them.  As my due date neared, however, I felt like we needed to settle on something.  Our lease was running out on the Victorian rental house.  We even considered purchasing it and finishing the spacious attic, but the small yard and noisy roads were not right for our family.  We started making offers on some of the smaller houses, but rather peculiar things happened when we did.  On the one house, someone counter-offered more money within hours of our offer---even though the house had been on the market for months.  Another house was under contract, but the realtor believed it was going to fall through.  After our offer, the contract was accepted and those buyers closed on the house.  On yet another house, after we made our offer, the sellers changed their minds and decided not to sell.  This went on and on throughout the summer.  In the meantime, I got more and more pregnant, our current lease was due to expire, and I continued to dream of this mountain farmhouse.

 

On July 14, 2006, I went into labor with our youngest son.  It was the hottest day of the summer, and we were scheduled to look at six houses with our one, four, and five year olds in tow.  I felt as if we HAD to decide on a house that day before I had this baby.  The very last house we looked at was a duplex in the middle of town.  It was a nice neighborhood, but we hadn't been interested in a duplex.  Our realtor assured us we would like it though, so we looked.  By the end of the day, we were hot, sweaty, hungry, and tired.  I held off going to the hospital until after dinner because I wasn't in that much pain.  When we finally arrived and I was admitted, I told my husband to call the realtor and make an offer on the duplex because I wanted to know we had a house under contract, at least.  He acquiesced because it's never smart to argue with a woman in labor.

 

Within hours, our son was born, and it was by far the shortest and mildest active labor I've ever had. The next day, we received a call from our realtor stating that the owner of the duplex (who happened to live in the other half) rejected our offer even though it was very close to the listed price.  So we offered the full amount.  He again rejected it.  Our realtor was perplexed.  She had never seen anything like this in her decades of real estate sales.  Her partner met with the owner in person, and he came right out and said he would not sell that house to people of color nor to ethnic minorities...nor to people with children.  He had apparently been watching us as we toured the other half of the duplex.  Our children were well-mannered and well-behaved even though they had spent all day looking at houses in the heat.  But seeing my husband and me with three small children and me being extremely pregnant turned him off, I suppose.  Unfortunately for him, there are laws against discrimination, and the realtor promptly removed the For Sale sign from his lawn, and all the local real estate agents refused to represent him.

 

Our realtor met with us and urged us to file a legal complaint with the US Housing and Urban Development so this person couldn't continue to discriminate.  She was appalled and embarrassed by the entire situation, especially since she was the one who urged us to look at that duplex when we really hadn't been interested at first.  I was initially hurt, flabbergasted, and offended at what had just happened.  In my postpartum, hormonal state I felt shocked and speechless.  Once our baby and I returned "home" from the hospital, however, I realized that aside from filing the lawsuit, we also still needed to find a house because time was rapidly running out on our rental agreement.  Fortunately, our house in South Carolina had sold a month earlier, and in a totally unexpected way.  Within a week of being listed, another realtor decided to purchase it at the full asking price because of its location adjacent to the horse fields where the annual Steeplechase occurred.  She planned to update the fifty year-old house and then flip it as soon as possible.  We had only owned the house for five years, so we didn't have a lot of equity in it, but it sold at such a good price that we made a nice profit.  We never dreamed that would happen, but it enabled us to pay off most of our loans which changed our buying power considerably.

 

At the same time all this was going on, my husband picked up some extra hours in the ER of a local hospital.  One night as he was talking about our adventures in house hunting, his boss mentioned that her house was for sale, and maybe we should check it out.  It had been on the market for nearly three months, and although offers had been made, none of them were close to the asking price.  What do you know?  Her house was the same farmhouse we had looked at in May---THE house I wanted in the worst way but had given up on.  I called our lender again and asked what we could afford now that our SC house had sold.  She asked if there was a house we had in mind, and she didn't have to ask twice.  We talked to our realtor immediately and made a good offer, and six weeks later the seven of us moved into that house.  THIS house.  And that is our happy ending.

 

Prologue:

Several years later, we were granted a significant amount of money from the HUD settlement.  It enabled us to build a greenhouse and install an aquaponics system without incurring debt.  And that is really how our farmhouse turned into a small farm since the herbs and greens grown in the aquaponics system were the first items we sold to the public at a local farmers' market.  How amazing is that?

My wish for all of you readers is that your lives be sprinkled with such miraculous moments to ponder and share.

Fall Has Come to Our Farmhouse Kitchen

 

While the children were at school yesterday, I dug out the fall decorations---new and old---and began embracing the upcoming season.  The near 90 degrees outside reminded me that it is still officially summer, but in my kitchen, it looks and smells like autumn.

 

Keep in mind that this 130 year-old farmhouse is a work in progress.

 

Our free time is limited, but I do what I can to spiffy things up here.  These wooden-wick candles really do crackle when they burn, making the kitchen smell like fall spices and sound like you've got a campfire going. 

 

With a household of seven and only one closet in the house, much of our stuff is on display.

 

Like this little stand that holds our phone books, schedules, and numerous papers that come home daily that I have to sort through.  For lack of a better place, all of the lunch bags tend to get stashed here too.

 

My dinner menu chalkboard hangs here, but it's also holding fall leaves for the time being.

 

I'm not sure how many days we'll get through before someone spills chocolate goat's milk all over the new table runner.  There's a good reason why my decorations come from Kohl's, Michael's, and even Dollar General.  My sanity remains somewhat intact if a $6 item gets ruined, as opposed to something much nicer that requires dry cleaning.

 

I still haven't done anything with this kitchen corner.  Instead of a secretary's desk, I think I need a corner hutch more, but I feel like we really must refinish the floor in here first.

 

My kiddos tend to eat more fruit when they're out on display like this.

 

A few years ago, I was ready to get rid of our electric stove/oven and replace it with a wood-fired one like the Amish have.

 

What was I thinking?

 

We do have this wood/coal burning stove that not only keeps the house warm in the winter, but it also serves as a backup for cooking if we lose power---which happens quite a bit.  It gets hot enough to simmer soup, boil water, and fry some eggs.

But it seriously needs cleaned and polished several times a year.

 

I don't know about you, but this is making me feel like warming up some spiced apple cider and baking some apple crisp or pumpkin cobbler.  

Thanks for meeting me today in our not-so-preppy farmhouse kitchen.