The noise begins at seven a.m. This morning it was a chopping noise followed by a clanging noise.
Large amounts of gravel were poured unceremoniously into the street. Right smack-dab in the middle, I say. The swinging metal door of an empty dump truck makes for an effective alarm clock. Also an equally effective laxative, if you have those issues.
I'm just saying, is all.
Over lunch, we ate tuna sandwiches and watched the construction progress from the front porch. It was as riveting as CNN.
Mostly, we didn't bother talking because our words were drowned out by the sound of progress. Everyone managed to get across "more tuna sandwiches, please".
Later in the day, I wriggled my kayak through a maze of danger zones in order to access the river. From there, I snapped this picture so people would know the scope of this mess.
The crew is doing a great job. I only wish they would have a second cup of joe in the morning before they start their engines.
We have three bedrooms in our new/old home. They are not large, by any stretch of the imagination.
-But each one has personality. Here is Ana's room. I love her paint colors! And the framed Picasso print that I scooped up for one buck at a yard sale really looks great here.
-But it really doesn't belong to Ana. It belongs to Lore and we all know that.
Someday I will get the perfect shot of the waterlilies on the river. But not today.
This peony makes me happy. We don't have much as far as landscaping here at the old stone home, but we do have some fragrant peonies, for which I am very grateful.
Ana is a very resourceful girl. She loves to bake, and with a non-functioning oven in the un-remodeled kitchen, her groove has been majorly disturbed.
So, what's a girl to do? Simple: make no-bakes. Double-batch. Mmmm.
This pic has nothing to do with today's triumph in the kitchen, except she is likely washing down a few cookies with a cool drink after snacking on the porch. I know how she works.
I got the hankering to go grocery shopping last night. Strange, but I went with my gut. All went very well; I came home with a bountiful trunk o' edible junk around 10:30 pm. Then, I remembered THE WALKWAY.
Presently, the only way to get groceries (or what-have-you) into the house is to either climb the front porch stairs or traverse the sloping gravel-and-cement walk from the driveway. Since a roost of bats hunkers in the broken ceiling of the front porch (death to bats), I chose the sloping and dimly-lit walk.
This morning, I decided to rid this pathway of its weeds and overgrown no-name perennials in order to actually SEE it in dim light.
No groceries were harmed in the traveling of this path in the dark, but I almost walked into a small tree with a jug of orange juice.
I could not resist throwing my kayak into the river before the sun went down. On one side, the long shadows submerge the grassy bank. On the other side, wedges of sunlight make everything shine like emeralds.
Monet would pull up his easel to a sight like this one. And since I never made it to the Metropolitan Museum last month, I'll have to find some living art to sate my culture taste-buds.
There are other things going on here besides the Big Move. Just outside my window, large machines are making large noises. Here, new telephone poles are being erected. The new lines will be raised 8-12 feet, bringing scores of ugly black wires above the sight-line from our bedroom window.
Thank you, worker-men. Every morning when I rise and cast my gaze upon the unobstructed view of the Grasse River, I will be grateful for your hard work. I shall bring you cookies, warm from the oven. That is, when I HAVE an oven.
I am not complaining.
The bridge is now closed to pedestrian traffic. (Last May, it was abruptly and unceremoniously closed to vehicular traffic.) There is a shuttle service that runs from the village square to the park on the other side of the bridge. As for me, I plan to use my kayak if I need to visit the park. -but you already knew that.
The men have already dammed one-half of the other side of the river and have created a gravel drive that leads into the empty riverbank for their heavy equipment. When the other side of the bridge is finished, they will do the same on our side.
I like to take breaks from unpacking and see their progress.
All day long, men in construction gear can be seen doing their thing. It is very satisfactory to know that even when I have my feet up drinking coffee, someone is getting something done around here.
How did THAT get in here? I am not sure, but it makes me want to order out.
For those who are concerned that Hubby is working too hard, allow me to calm your fears. He came out onto the water the other evening where we sat side by side, bobbing on the rippling river and soaking in the peace of the sky, the churning of the falls, and the dipping of sparrows over our heads. When we turned around to head back, I caught him quietly observing our new home.
I liked this moment.
I also liked THIS moment. #1 Son looks dead, but he is merely posing for dramatic effect. Friend #7 said, "Don't take my picture!", but when do I ever listen to her?
Please notice the new rug, which was purchased online after Christmas. I unrolled it for the very first time the day we moved---and it stunned us all with its perfection. 100% wool, a perfect match, lovely style, and 75% off. What's not to love?
I present to you some scenes from last week, hereby dubbed "Moving Week".
Oh, and also dubbed "Painting Week". Here you see the muted gold in the front room and that elusive gray/green/blue something-or-other hue in the dining room/sitting room.
We call it a sitting room because of all the choices available upon which to sit.
I like it ever so much with sparse furnishings. I wish we could live forever like this. Less to clean.
My favorite piece of furniture, the Tibetan Armoire, finds a new home. It took us a long time to train Friend #37 to say "Tibetan Armoire." But he has it in his repertoire now. I can hear him all the way from China, intoning "Ti-be-tan Ar-mwahhhhr" in his droll manner.
This little corner is where you can send me when I'm bad. I won't mind it a bit.
I like the leather couch cushions piled on top of our antique couch. It's a new way of doing things.
The neighborhood girls set up the poster bed for us. I waited a long time to have my bed back, Our last bedroom wouldn't accommodate it.
This scenario was viewed from the front porch. How will they get that table over that stone wall?
Like this, silly. Alley-oop.
We gathered at this very same table to give thanks later that day, and then we shared a meal and rested our tired backs.
Mostly, we didn't bother talking because our words were drowned out by the sound of progress.
The crew is doing a great job. I only wish they would have a second cup of joe in the morning before they start their engines.
