Back again blogging. I seem to have been away for a long, long time. Having spent the last few years doing a major maintenance makeover and building on an extension, life got in the way of my blogging. Now I have a lovely study in which to sit and ponder and write.
My study was my Grandmother's kitchen, my Mother's Living/Family room. When she passed away six years ago it became rather neglected. It lost a lot of its furniture to woodworm when we moved in. It was used as a storage room during the building work. It became cold and damp and lonely. Indeed OH used it on occasion to store his cans of Guinness...in a July heatwave. The stout remained ice cold.
Today it is bright, warm with a new retro traditional style radiator that emits something called heat. A new laminate vintage oak floor. I have polished up my pine desk, added pictures and prints and photographs of family - generations of family. It is the room where every nook and cranny is proudly showing off my treasures. Ornaments, mementos, my Father's books, my books and two very precious books belonging to my paternal Grandfather. There is a smell of beeswax and roses permeating the room. In the fireplace a cosy log fire is burning and the old smell of peat is gone. Occasionally I get a whiff of it. It is a smell I hate. Mum had 3 litres of liquid removed from her lungs before she died and the smell of peat was strong. Nowadays cherry wood, ash and oak blaze prettily.
Her terracotta carpet has been consigned to a skip. In the three years that this room served as a storage place for furniture, Guinness cans, carpets and rugs, and oddly shaped boxes, the mice did a fandango on the carpet and started a chewing pool in the centre of it. I'm sure I heard them singing at midnight! Fortunately the cowhide rug I gave Mum for Christmas in 1989 remains intact. It now graces the floor in front of the hearth. A cosy Queen Anne chair takes its place with pride beside the window and it is here I now grab an hour or two to sit and read, crochet, jot down ideas for stories, and birdwatch. When life gets too busy I put the Winnie the Pooh sign up on a pin beside the study door - it politely says "Do NOT disturb".
That, of course, is asking for too much. OH barges in just as the Muse strokes the ideas pad in my brain. "Have you seen my glasses", "Where's the manual for that bark shredder", "Did you feed the cat". I smile sweetly and plot my revenge. I shall await the next Hurling match when his favourite counties are playing; as he sits shouting at the tv, bouncing up and down on the settee, I shall sweetly ask him to come and change a light bulb for me. Won't work though. He knows I am quite capable of doing it myself. ED will tap on the door and without waiting for a "come in" will bounce in to tell me of the days events. Yes, I am always interested, but where did my "ME" time go? Did anybody see it slip out the door and run down the hall? Do tell it to come back if you see it. YD will tap gently, await the "come in" x 5 and then beg pardon for disturbing me. At least her visits here are rare. She has set herself up very nicely in the new extension and knows the value of a little "me" time. We shall meet up in the kitchen over a cuppa in the not too distant future.
Mme Pounce will sit sunning herself on the window after her breakfast. She will thump the window just to remind me that she reigns supreme and can mess up any newly cleaned window at any time she wants. She will be twelve in May. I am considering taking a contract out on the nasty, bad tempered, foul mouthed beast. She called me a waaaaaaiow yesterday. With the look it accompanied, I don't think it boded well for me and she's probably already got a contract out on me.
We have a river of daffodils wending their way down the paddock; there are thousands of crocuses out, or should that be crocusii? and the garden is text book pretty. It has taken six years to bring it back to life after Mum passed on. Snow, frost and gales have taken their toll. It is not the garden she left but I know she would love it. We're off to Kerry on Saturday and I can't wait. We, OH and I, celebrate 37 years together on Saturday and I'll hit the 60 mark during the week. Growing older somewhat gracefully in spite of the arthritis, certainly growing older positively positive.
Here's a hope that time will permit a return to my beloved blogging, and time to catch up on all those blogs I love but haven't had time to always add a comment to.