i'm insanely busy this week, as i have been for the past two months, packing and tossing and giving and selling, making room in the cabin for the things that i still want to have around me. the space there is smaller, the arrangement different, so that i've had to think and rethink how i'll be making my nest.
i've sold some furniture from the cabin, have sold pieces here on firefly road that will no longer fit. it isn't an easy thing to do, but the feeling of less clutter is a freeing one, indeed.
remodeling work on the basement for my studio is coming along, although there are the inevitable setbacks as we all waaaaaaait for the electrician to show. the move is scheduled for this sunday, and i'm not sure where i'll be stashing all of the studio boxes, tables, and tools until the sheetrock and outlets are done. i can't spend much time being frustrated about that. packing needs are screaming out to me.
this has been the fun part: dreaming of color. i've never lived in a house, in all of my 56 years, that permitted me the option to paint walls the color of my choice. i've never actually lived in a house that i call mine. a wish list that was unearthed from studio cubbyholes, written over a year ago, reveals that almost all of my wishes have come true.
meanwhile - so many colors from which to choose! the split log walls will remain the original whitewash that my parents chose, when the cabin was constructed in 1998-99; but the interior sheetrock walls downstairs will be a soft yellow for the living room/kitchen/hall, and a robin's egg blue/green for my bedroom and bath. yes. difficult to photograph properly, i did my best here, but i think that the tones are not quite as deep as they appear.
upstairs, the bedroom and bath will be a soft celery green. throughout, there will be my usual splashes of red - the soft brick red of my linen sofa, the reds in antique oriental carpets, a shiny new red metal kitchen cannister trash can. and of course, throughout, the soft remembrances of a house my parents pieced together with love. i'll be back here, after the move. wish me well. xo Halfway down the stairs
is a stair
where i sit.
there isn't any
i'm not at the bottom,
i'm not at the top;
so this is the stair
- a.a. milne