A List of Many Thanks

Looking around this year, I have a long list of ‘thanks’.  Many to people I’ll never know. Thanks to all the hard-working plumbers, cabinet builders and tilers.  

I now have a sink that works. 

Gorgeous hand built cabinets. 

Tile backsplash. 

More thanks to all the painters and flooring installers. I also have waterproof flooring that looks beautiful. 

 

Freshly painted walls and mantle look amazing. 

Even more thanks to a devoted reconstruction team of project advisers and planners. Last year was very hard and at times the problems seemed endless. But with their help and determination, our flooded house is now a cozy, beautiful home again. 

I know there are many others. Friends and neighbors and family who helped, advised, encouraged and supported me. The unsung hero’s of the reconstruction office. The extra helpers on the job site. The guys who haul in the supplies. And the ones who haul it all out. To the packers and movers. To all who I saw and all who I didn’t. 

Many Many Many Thanks. 

May Day

 

Today is May Day, an ancient celebration that marks the start of summer. Celebrated in many cultures around the world in many different ways. Dancing around a maypole. Gathering wild flowers to make crowns and garlands. Setting up bonfires. 

My cultural heritage the celebration was called Beltane. The Celtic traditions included lighting bonfires or candles. And making offerings to the aos si, or fairies to stay in their good favor. 

How do I make my own May Day?

With my home still under construction, I’m having a hard time celebrating this year. There is dust covering every surface downstairs. I made my best effort to clean the upstairs and get ready to move back in last week but, sadly, that didn’t happen. 

Floors are still not complete. Moldings not finished. Plumbing is not connected to our sink, dishwasher or refrigerator. In fact, our refrigerator is still in the garage. Our furniture, pillows, pictures, chairs, dining table, dishes, glasses, cookware and laundry are still packed away in a secure storage facility. Somewhere. 

So it’s a little hard to celebrate Beltane right now. 

May Day…May Day. 

I’ve always been proud to be independent, self-sufficient and strong. I hate to ask anyone, family, friend or neighbor for help. I don’t want to impose. But it’s become clear to me that I can’t do all of this myself. 

Many, many people had to be called in to clear out, repair, install and reconstruct my home. I’ve seen so many skilled hands at work: crafting cabinets, setting countertops, putting in tile, installing the oven, cooktop, microwave and sink. I’m very grateful for all the craftsmanship that went into re-making my home. 

Seeing the light. 

So today, I’m going to celebrate Beltane anyway. 

I’m going to gather some flowers and put them in vases. 

I’m going to light a candle or two.  

I’m going to make offerings in honor of all the helpers:

Friends, family, craftsmen and even, a fairy or two. 

 

Rise and Shine

I’ve heard these words all my life. Sometimes it was an order or a song or a hope. This week, it feels like things around me are starting to rise and shine. 

The kitchen countertops arrived. Finally the cabinets and island are topped with the black quartz I picked out months ago. While, right now, they are still covered with blue protective plastic, I can see a working kitchen rising. 

A place to roll out biscuits. Cut out cookies. Make muffins and omelets and soups. When the cooktop and oven is finally in, I can’t wait to make mac and cheese from scratch. Bake scones and brownies and spinach pie. 

Oh my, tile too. 

Also this week, the tile was installed between the counter tops and the cupboards. I’ve always had a tile backsplash, which I loved. And I wondered and worried what this new tile would look like with the countertops. 

Would I like it just as much as my original tile? I wasn’t sure. As an artist, (ok, I have trouble using that word on myself), I do have the ability to visualize. Especially for others, it’s very easy for me to see what works and what doesn’t. It’s harder be so sure in my own home, especially this time, when the choice to change wasn’t mine. 

So I was surprised when it all came together. It’s not exactly what I envisioned but it works. 

Rising takes time. 

As I’ve said many times, I’m not a patient person. But what life continues to teach me is things take time. The water damage in July has taken a long time to fix. Our move in date has moved back another week, but tomorrow new floors are going in. 

So things are rising out of the damage. 

New cabinets. New countertops. New sink. New tile.  

And once all the dust gets cleaned up.

It will shine. Again.   

The Power of Paint

 

Early Tuesday morning, the call came announcing the painters had arrived! I jumped up, grabbed my paint chips and headed for the house. It’s not the first time the house has been painted, of course. But it’s the first time, since we built the house, that my husband and I weren’t doing it ourselves. Exciting and nerve racking. 

So making sure that the right colors got onto the right walls was very important. I had picked out three shades of gray (not 50, lol) to go on different walls in the three rooms of our open concept living space.

I also had the wood mantle redone in a satin black to tie into the black gas insert. And had the vaults painted in Polar Bear(the lightest gray/white) in the great room and up the stairs. I’m so glad my husband was not the one balancing a ladder on the stairs!

Uplifting change. 

Being greeted by the smell of fresh paint was wonderful. Looking up at the vaulted ceiling felt like looking at a white cloud filled sky. But the very best was seeing the change on the fireplace wall. Removing my once beloved red and repainting a gray was a big change that lightened the room. It also made the natural brick fireplace an interesting new focal point. 

The change in the dining nook area is very subtle. At first, I questioned by choice, but it grew on me. I realize that once the table, chairs and rug are back in place it will be a cozy nook. Where I can now use a variety of colors as accents.  

Inspiration to paint. 

While the house painters were hard at work, I picked up my own paint brushes. Since I can’t throw clay to ease my stress, I pulled out my old watercolors and paper. I had no idea or concept or landscape to render. My only goal: play. 

When I pulled out my brushes, I was greeted by old friends. My wash brush! I got this brush in my very first painting class with Charles Mulvey. I was only 16 years old(and the youngest in his class) but I loved it from the first. 

Painting a white watercolor paper with water, adding color and watching it flow still seems like magic. Splatting red and yellow from my brush is so fun. Adding salt and seeing it create all of those wonderful new spaces from pools of color is delight. 

Later, I added the black tree and bird. 

Pictured there on the paper were all my feelings: chaos, love, excitement, change. 

The tree with no roots: Me right now, floating in a sea of change trying to remain steady. 

But there is bright paint on my ceilings, like the bright colors on the watercolor sky.   

Glimmers of Light

I cried. But this week, they were happy tears. I walked into my demolished kitchen and saw a wall of newly built and installed solid wood cabinets. They looked so beautiful. I am amazed by and grateful to the wonderful local cabinet builders. 

When we helped design and build this house, we knew what we wanted, solid oak cabinets. We’d worked with a local builder and cabinet maker to design and build red oak cabinets, desk and island. Yes, we paid more but it was worth it. 

So after all the water damage, we fought to make sure we had the same local cabinet makers and quality wood cabinets again. It was a difficult fight. But it was worth it. 

Natural beauty. 

As an artist, nature and earth elements are a big part of my creative work. But I realize even before I started working in clay, which comes directly from the earth, nature was my inspiration. Coastal landscapes. Rocks. Trees. Clouds and skies. 

My first painting class was from a local landscape painter, Charles Mulvey. His work focused on coastal scenes that I knew and loved. But what I loved best was his ability to work wet into wet creating beautiful soft skies and balance it with trees and rocks. 

When I look at wood, whether it’s trees, floors or cabinet doors, I see shapes and images in the grain. The flow of the color and texture inspires me. 

Light after the fight. 

I don’t like fighting. As a child, I was surrounded by it and I hated it. I tried to find quiet and peace burying myself in books, making mud villages in the yard, riding my bike to the woods. The woods were my safe space. 

That’s why having real wood cabinets and floors in my home is so important to me. I can see now, why I got so mad when the insurance company refused to give us the money to replace our real oak cabinets.

I had to fight. And the fight was worth it. Finally, over 8 months after all the water damage, mold and demolition, I see the light. My home is being rebuilt. 

My woods are back. And I get to see them everyday. 

Springing Forward In More Ways Than One

 

It’s a week of change for many of us. Clocks spring forward an hour. Schools take a break for a week. And for us, it’s officially the first week of our home reconstruction. 

Appliances were removed. Floors were torn out. Oak cabinets, countertops and the center island were all taken out. Tile was chipped away. Water damaged insulation, drywall and subfloors were replaced. The open concept downstairs is now completely cleared and ready for new work to begin. 

Sad and glad. 

We helped design and build this home, so seeing it torn apart is an emotional rollercoaster. I was so mad when the water valve failure ruined so much of my home. And I worried about contamination, health and safety. So having it all removed, finally, was a relief. 

But it was also sad to walk into the empty shell that remains. Yes, the beautiful ebony wood floor is gone. Colorful tile broken in pieces. Oak cabinets removed. When I looked around, I saw decades of our family life excavated.

Years of little things: homework at the desk, birthday parties, cookie decorating, egg coloring, teenage sleepovers, holidays, graduations, bridal showers, cats and dogs and newborn babies. Down in one corner, only a single letter magnet remained. 

Embracing the new. 

But, just like the clocks, I’m moving forward. We’ve picked our selections for sinks, countertops, flooring and paint. The cabinets are being built. And next week, I’m hoping to see new paint on the walls and ceilings to get ready for the cabinet and flooring installations. 

Trying to see the new in the rubble of the old is hard. But as I went around watering my plants, I noticed the small, new leaves unfurling. On our walk, daffodils and hyacinth are popping up.  And next to the sidewalk was this lovely note and a group of canning jars filled with plum blossoms. I scooped up a jar of flowering branches and walked on with a smile on my face and a much lighter heart. 

Loss is hard, no doubt about it. But now, it’s time to open my arms and my heart, like spring, to new growth, new family events and making new memories. 

All Packed Up

I’ve always moved myself. From home to college to the next new home and the next and the next, I wrapped, packed, labeled and carried out boxes from place to the other. Then, I unpacked. 

This time, it’s completely different. On Tuesday, a team of women arrived with stacks of new packing boxes, wrapping paper, bubble wrap and tape. They meticulously inventoried my downstairs. Then proceeded to wrap and pack everything from glasses, silverware and china to paintings, rugs, tables and chairs. They even wrapped up my ziplock bags and garbage can. 

They were amazing. They were so organized. And I’m forever grateful.

Studio chaos. 

What they didn’t pack was my studio. The water didn’t damage anything in there, thank goodness. So no reconstruction is necessary. While the rest of the house was broken up, my studio remained an oasis of calm during the chaos. Until this week, of course. 

Due to the demolition that will be happening in the rest of the downstairs, I worried about possible damage to my porcelain ceramic work. It was recommended that I take tall pieces down and pad them with bubble wrap. So I spent Monday wrapping and securing my work as best I could. 

I also had a bisque load in the kiln that needed to be unloaded. And then, find a safe place for all of those pieces. And I’m in the gallery for Ceramic Showcase, so I needed to be sure those pieces were secure and ready to deliver if the construction goes longer than expected. 

My studio is not and will not be a creative retreat or workable space for a month or more. It’s hard in many ways. I won’t be able to play with color or glaze the new pieces. Most of all, during this turbulent time, I won’t have my hands in clay to calm and ground me. 

Empty nest demolition. 

After originally spending a year designing and building this home, it’s going to be very hard to see it torn apart. Now I know that it needs to be done. I know this will insure we have a safe and solid great room and kitchen. But it’s hard. 

It’s hard to see all the boxes and furniture hauled away to parts unknown. 

It’s hard to see my beautiful floor, cabinets and counters ripped out. 

It’s hard to see it completely empty except for cobwebs and dust.

And it’s an very empty nest right now. 

But outside the window, I see buds and beautiful blooms. 

And I hope my new nest will bud into something just as beautiful. 

February Love Story #4 - Heart and Home

About 30 years ago, I took on a big scale creative project: designing and overseeing the building of a new home. With a growing family, we needed not just more room, but rooms that were open allowing for a better flow of family life. 

We toured many new homes for sale but none of them really felt right. After much thought, we decided we needed to build our own home. We found a plan close to what we wanted and I set about redesigning it. I’d worked in an architect’s office during college where one of my many tasks was making blueprints. This experience taught me how to read plans, how to change plans and how the basic building process worked. 

The biggest requirement: an open floor plan. We wanted the main floor to flow from kitchen to dining to living rooms. We wanted a ‘homework’ and home business desk area. And I wanted a room where I could expand my creative side whether that was drawing, writing or painting. 

Difficult and delightful. 

I enjoyed the creative side of re-designing the plans. Moving a doorway here. Pushing out for window seats in all three bedrooms. Turning the kitchen island around to allow for a downdraft cooktop, stealing space from the downstairs bath for a bigger pantry and reversing the washer/dryer area to give me a laundry room window and sink. 

Staying on budget with surface selections was sometimes difficult. But we did it. Finding colorful countertops, tile for the island and backsplash, carpet, vinyl and wood flooring. Best of all, beautiful custom red oak cabinetry, yes that was extra but worth every penny. 

Many years of love.

My son was 6 and my daughter was 9 when we moved in. With the open floor plan, we’ve been able to be flow and grow with them. Lots of birthday parties, sleepovers, family dinners, holidays, bridal showers have been celebrated here. 

My husband and I have marked many anniversaries and weathered many life changes under this cozy vaulted roof. Jobs. School graduations. Open studio events. Covid. Sheltering our children during life changes. Working from home. 

Now our children’s children play with trains, dolls, puzzles, crayons and paint here too. Our home has moved, changed and embraced it all. 

And now: tears and fear. 

In July, we woke up to a flood in our kitchen caused by a newly installed plumbing valve failure. As usual, we took care of our home: mopping up water, calling the plumbing company and insurance company. 

We had mold. Then we had flooring, countertops and sink torn out. We washed dishes in the laundry room sink(who knew how much I’d need that sink when we built the house). We tripped on 3 layers of uneven flooring. I learned to balance between it all to load and unload the washer and dryer, cook and yes, clean my home. 

Nine months have passed. I’ve lost so much sleep. Crying over the losses. Fearing more damage every time I hear the sounds of water. Angry at how much I have to fight the insurance company over everything needed to try to get my home back to being a home again. 

Estimator after estimator has come to measure and assess the damage. Totals sent to the insurance company are rejected time and time again. We get more experts to explain the situation to the insurance company. Weeks and months go by with rejections or no response at all from the insurance company adjuster. Who, by the way, has never actually come here to see the damage or what a beautiful home we had. 

It’s hard enough to see the heart of my home destroyed by a plumbing company/valve failure. But to be told by a distant insurance adjuster, your flooring which you loved, will have to all be ripped out and replaced, then to not be given enough money to get it done right? 

It’s the heart of my home. 

It’s a labor of love.

It’s no wonder I can’t sleep.