Every day is something new in this house. The tree people have been here for almost a week, and today the yard seemed to open up like a blooming flower. The sun streamed in with heat and light that exceeded what I could have imagined. It is like the house now sits on a knoll, which it doesn’t, and catches every sunbeam that falls nearby. The large stumps have been ground into fluffy mounds of the most delicious smelling sawdust, and I can’t wait to grab my rake and smooth them out. I yearn to sweep up all the debris, those tiny little limbs that have fallen with a number equal to the leaves that surround them. It will be a huge pile, and like magic my town will send a truck to remove it all from the end of my drive.
And finally we are at the last day of the flooring. I am riding these wooden floors like a boogie board, taking a few steps then sliding in my socks like I was riding the surf along the ocean. I feel giddy doing this, and I have to stop the urge before I fall on my arse and hurt myself. But these floors are so beautiful, so slippery, so shiny and they smell so good. It’s like being in a brand new house.
There’s still so much left to do. The floor contractor is a general contractor and has cut up my smaller bedroom (the library) to ready it for a french door. That’s the next project. For some reason the room has only a small porthole (yes, like on a ship) that rotates to allow half of it to open to the outside.
It’s not an “egress” window (you can’t fit a body through it), and this tiny window keeps the room dark no matter how many trees I remove. So the biggest window I could find is a door, and a door it will be. I dream about how this room will look once it’s finished.
The feeling of accomplishment at the end of each day lifts my spirits so high, if it weren’t for total exhaustion I would never get to sleep. But like anything else, each step forward brings a revelation of something else that needs to be done, and I keep pushing back the date when I think the house will be presentable. Stay tuned.