Pine Basket Farm is now a reality. I am the proud third owner of a 122-year-old farmhouse on a bit of land that needs me as much as I need it. The first photo I took of it is posted above. The afternoon sun brightly shines through the house and creates a warming glow that outshines its many needs. Maybe it blinded me to the work ahead to restore it, but all I know is how it makes me smile. Everytime I head west towards it out of Houston I grin. I drive away from other stressors, complicated situations and emotions. I feel good.
Driving up to it on Monday was thrilling in a very deep personal way. It was the first day I entered it alone after its purchase and the weeks I waited for "Uncle Clem" to move out. While I understood the time he needed to move out after 40 years, I had become antsy. I had schedule the junk removal company for that morning but arrived quite early.
I stood still for a long time. I heard the rooster crowing, birds singing, wind in the trees and little else. No traffic, no sirens, no... people. Just me and the farm with the morning sun shining on the house and casting a dense shadow of the monumental oak beside it.
I was pleased with the condition of the grounds, with all that was gone and was eager to get inside. And yet, as I approached the kitchen door I paused. Deep breaths, contentment that grew as I pushed on the door. The kitchen was delightfully empty, with only an old metal and formica table and metal chairs with seats deeply worn or poorly recovered. A present!
In every room was a pile of discards, clothes, boxes, furniture. No worries, by the end of the day it was gone except for a few things I chose to keep. Two truckloads full -- progress was made!! On Saturday we will get to the outside.
Yesterday, my pal and I pulled the old paneling off the walls in the "dining room." It was practically sawdust. We then attacked the acoustic tiles and framework to again expose the 12-foot ceiling. Pure joy to see the unpainted 6-inch cypress boards of the walls and ceilings. Sentimental to see the remnants of cheesecloth tacked to them to provide a base for the faded wallpaper that surely had made someone proud and happy. In the kitchen was another dropped ceiling so down it came to expose bead board all the way up to the bead board ceiling and access to the huge empty attic. I shouted with joy and laughed at the changed sound in each room.
My retreat. A place to be, well, different. Fresher air, bigger sky, new earth. Magic for myself and others...