Welcome To The Asylum

(well, I can't name it "rose cottage" can I?)

Philip doesn't think "The Rose And Thorn Farmhouse" is a good name for a house. So I suggested "The Sanatorium" and he's actually thinking that one over.* Though, truth be told, he's not too keen to name our house at all. He said "Why can't we just call it 'The Farmhouse'?" and I promptly told him it didn't sound enough like a special place that someone might write a book about.

This is a picture of our front porch. It faces the back yard. It's big and will be hung with Chinese lanterns I think. There will be a table and chairs to sit at and drink coffee plus pretty pots of growing things to welcome the weary (us).

I love lilacs. The French name is so much prettier: syringa. I have wanted lilacs in my yard for years. It was the lilac that first made me understand the deep satisfaction in picking a glorious vase of flowers to scent and decorate the house. My mother gave me huge bunches of them from her lilac tree when we all lived in Petaluma together. They grow wonderfully well up here and are all over town.

I had planned on planting one in my current garden but would have had to remove some giant rhododendrons to do it and risk getting reported to the local garden club tribunal for my rhodie crime. At the farmhouse garden there are six of them already planted!! Two are purple, two are white, and two are a mystery as yet to unfold with spring.

This one is a total mystery. The actual size of these leaves and buds are under half an inch. I have no idea what it is.

A pretty camellia. Although I doubt I would ever plant a ton of them, we do love camellias and this one has grown on me quite a bit in the time we've been purchasing the house. Something else I'm very excited about is the Viburnum by the porch: a snowball tree!!!!! Ooh, I've been wanting one of those for so long!! What luck to have one already established. There are also two giant hydrangeas in the garden but I think they're the lace cap kind and I like the classic pom-pom kind.

This is the the landing of the staircase. What pretty light comes in.

The front of the house. As seen from the garden. A ubiquitous Japanese maple is in the foreground trying to lay low because it knows I will dig it up. Don't worry, it will find a good home. They are extremely well loved in this town.

The dining room built ins. Lots and lots of kitchen and dining room cabinets and drawers. Closets are a small sickly affair in this house, but there is no shortage of storage space for kitchen and dining things. The furniture is not ours. The sellers staged the house for selling.

A view I will see a thousand times a year or more. How pretty! Kitchen window; like looking out through the soul of the house.

Well, it's time to bath and get packing again. I got a start yesterday but not a very big start. The new house is only about a mile from our current house so I think we will not pack things in a careful meticulous fashion but in a haphazard quick way. Why hasn't someone developed a teleporter for moving yet? Whoever does it will make their fortune.

*He immediately rejected "The Rose And Thorn Sanatorium". What's he got against roses and thorns and thistles anyway? I'd love to call our house "Thornyfield Sanatorium" but I suppose he wouldn't go for that either. I'm rewatching the 1970's Jane Eyre production with Timothy Dalton in it who I normally dislike but who is the only actor I've so far seen who can play that character. I've read the book many times too. I love it. The reason I thought up sanatorium in the first place is that in the old days sanatoriums were not only places where crazy people were stored, it was where people went for rests to prevent them from completely losing their nuts all over the place and killing relatives. I have, since I was a very young teen, fantasized about going to an asylum to rest. Although, real asylums are not restful peaceful pretty places. I mean, if there were any actual asylums left, which there aren't I think. The modern asylum is the city street.

Hey, how about "Thornyfield Asylum"?!!!! A good mix of hard modern with Gothic romance.

My Blue Heaven

Papers have been signed in dizzying masses with fresh blood from the turnips that have come to stand in place of an income. Promises have been made, barters with the heavens have been forged and redemption has been temporarily issued. The gates of heaven await only the key. The key won't come to us until tomorrow. (Though we can go through the side gate and peer into the windows of our blue farmhouse nest.)

It has been hectic. It has not all gone as planned. Will it be worth it? Will we regret it? Will a brand new cycle of doom and fear and shit luck trail around at our heels like a determined hound from hell setting fire to a half a lifetime of hard work and wholesome dreams? I don't know all the answers.

This is what I know: This house is my idea of heaven and I can't wait to get my life settled into it.

The ultimate sign that this was the right house (besides the fact that it tied it's spiritual apron strings around my waist the minute I entered) was the discovery of the custom made spice rack. I've seen a lot of houses and these are rare finds. Three out of four houses we've bought had them. Perfect custom made spice racks. A spice rack is something I consult almost every single day and so few things in my home have the power to please me so constantly with their utility, beauty, convenience, and good design.

What's really weird to me is that I have had to temporarily resurrect the business to get this all to go through. I never officially closed it down. People have been ordering from the website even though we took the store feature down. They've been getting to the products by way of links. There's life there. And then I was realizing that maybe I'm not quite finished with it yet. Maybe with some love and using only what I already have on hand I can rebuild. Rebuild what I want to and discard the rest.

The book "A Is For Aprons" in which one of my apron patterns appears is coming out in May. I had planned on completing the instructions for one of my patterns to put up for sale when the book came out. I might still do it. I understand that I am THMR* so it would be with no expectations and almost no investment capitol which means I would produce it one at a time in a fashion I could afford to do in. My pattern work is excellent though (one of the few things I feel confident about) and I enjoy doing it. So who knows, maybe this new homestead is what I needed to clear out my head. We'll see.

Queer, isn't it?

The main thing is the nest. The farmhouse. Can I give it a ridiculously pompous moniker? Such as "Thistle Lodge Park"? Or how about "The Williamson Sanatorium"? Or how about "The Rose And Thistle Farmhouse"...just like a pub. I love pubs.

I haven't packed a box. Not a single box. We're moving in two days.

But I'm not worried. I'm going to take a lukewarm bath and then I'm going to pack like I've got fire ants in my pants. I'll leave you with that charming image.

*The Human Money Repellent. I say this with fondness now. I've embraced it and the sting is gone. Whether or not it continues to be true, it still amuses me.