Mission Creep in House Renovation

When you're giving a house a major facelift, Other Things are bound to crop up.

 They might include rotting window trim that lets water cascade onto your computer table and dresser. There might be roof vents that were never properly installed, that flap up in a westerly wind and let water pour onto your fine art prints in the upstairs storage room, considerably reducing your stock. There might be a set of old deck stairs that aren't worth ripping off the house. Which means you need a new set built.

There might even be a heavy metal awning over your front porch that needed 12 bolts when it was originally installed, but was only given (gulp) three, and they are on the bottom, such that the whole damn awning has pulled away from the house and is threatening to brain the house occupants. 

And all this time Bill had been telling me my hanging baskets were too heavy. 

Hey. They ain't heavy. They're my flowers. And I have been given clearance, with the awning freshly re-installed, to hang as many as I want. Craig said so.

Mission creep. It happens. The front stoop obligingly fell apart during the project, forcing the issue and nearly twisting the ankle of one of our brave crew. Note to self: Pacific red cedar is expensive, and it lasts exactly 14 years, and then it falls apart. Do something different this time.

What was different was Trex plastic board, made from milk jugs. Yay! In a fetching shade of milk chocolate brown. And there's that awning, newly re-attached. Whew!

I thoroughly enjoyed capturing the renovation in every light condition, every mood. These evening clouds. Good grief. Underlighting, anyone? Does it make me want to paint them? Yes, it does. Do I paint them? No, I have to clean the house again. People are coming...

Because Trex board sags, you have to build the whole stoop out of pressure-treated wood, and then put the Trex over that. It was a whole lotta building. I was surprised to find no rats or snakes holed up under the old stoop. Come on. Something...but it was innocent of tenants, nor any trace of them.

The finished stoop. We decided to take it all the way over to the kitchen wall, which essentially gave us another outdoor room. We've got a couple of chairs out there and Bill and I enjoy sitting out there in the (short) evenings, taking in the view from our new little verandah. Of all the changes, that porch is the one that probably pleases us most, and we hadn't even been planning to do it. Just goes to show you that life is what happens when you're busy making other plans. 

On the shade of red we chose...Bill and I pored over paint chips and finally bought a quart of the red we liked best, the one that most evoked a barn, that wasn't too hot or too fire-enginey, that wasn't too maroon, that was just right. He slapped it on a goodly section of the tower, in back, visible from the kitchen window, where we looked at it for a couple of years. Yes, we move slowly, but when we move...We liked it in the chip, but liked it even better on the siding. So we bought a whole bunch of it and stored it in the basement. I told the crew when they arrived, "That paint's been sitting here for two years. Gonna have to stir it a bit..."

 My friend Orly from California pointed out that Norman Rockwell liked that color, too...here's his studio! Slightly darker, but virtually the same hue of weathered brick red. Validation from one of the greats.

Now, I would have added contrasting trim, but who am I to question Norman Rockwell? Fact is, that red sings against green and sky blue and cloud white.

from Wikimedia Commons, thank you so much!

The Locavore Science Chimp, processing pawpaws in the evening light. You see the garage is still sickly grey-green. Can't afford to do the garage right now. But we have enough Hardie board left over from the big job to do it! Mission creep! Just give us a few years...gotta write that best-seller.

Panoramic photo by Phoebe, taken with my iPhone. Amazing!