In which we ponder home improvement

In the same way that I love armchair travel, I adore books that deal with the reclamation of houses. I am secretly envious of people who move to foreign countries--or even from city to exurb or the country--to fashion a new life for themselves as they rehabilitate an old barn into a living space or charm a chicken coop into a home. (The queen of such conjuring is, without question, Lisa St. Aubin de Teran. I am fascinated by her because every few years she writes a new memoir, chronicling her experiences as she sheds one life and takes on another as easily as some women change clothes. If you have a chance, read The Hacienda, A Valley in Italy, and Memory Maps in that order.)

What I cannot quite imagine is how anyone can find the energy to convert a mill into a goat farm, or turn a ramshackle farmhouse into a cozy B&B. We bought a house that is over 70 years old--fairly aged by our town's standards. (Everyone thinks that the buildings in our town are historical, but most of them date from a restoration in the 1920s. There are still plenty of authentically old structures, but not quite so many as visitors often believe.) What I've found from owning a house this old is that it is not just a house, it is a member of the family. It has its quirks and eccentricities--including a pair of benevolent ghosts and a singular lack of insulation. It stands on an acre of neglected grounds, and from time to time we find relics of the former owners--a bit of garden wall covered over with ivy or a tiny terra cotta frog buried in the azaleas. There are holly trees planted in the ivy bed, which witches will tell you is good luck, and the crawl space beneath the house is sound and dry. What it doesn't have is proper ventilation in the kitchen or downstairs bath, a sealed basement, or decent windows. (Oh, the windows are pretty, but they are single-paned, proper wood-framed windows with divided lights, the kind you cannot get anymore and wouldn't want to if you could because the glass itself hemorrhages heat in the winter.)

The question is, how do you know where to start? There is still, four years after we moved in, interior trim that wants painting, and landscaping that must be torn out and the ground regraded. There are all of the windows to replace--tricky with custom blinds at every window that we are determined to save. The azaleas will eventually have to be torn out, and a curious flower box dismantled and hauled away. (And don't get me started on the magnificent evil of the voles...) There is fencing to be unrolled and tacked into place, a staircase to the garage apartment that must be rebuilt because it lists as if at sea, and while we're at it, the garage apartment would be much more useful if it were plumbed and heated. Not to mention the various little bits of furniture that seem to do when you first move in but eventually just start to annoy you. And above all is the tremendous guilt when I think about altering ANYTHING from the original finish, with the exception of a little interior paint. We had to install two new staircases when we moved in to make the house functional and I'm still apologizing. (It is laid out like any proper house from 1940--lots of small, cozy rooms except for the downstairs living room, which I don't even use as the ground floor is where my parents live, while we have the top two floors. I console myself that even though they have the spacious living room at least I got the better bathroom...)

There is so much to do--and it will all cost so much--that I usually lose heart halfway through making a list and wander off to read a book. And if I'm reading a book about someone who has gamely survived making over a house, what I usually find is a happy ending and a welcome reminder that it all takes a great deal of time and not even a yurt can be built in a day. (Okay, maybe you can build a yurt in a day. I'm too tired to google.)

Comments

[Cecelia]

I feel your pain! We began on a renovation (in preparation for our daughter's wedding) about two weeks before all ** broke loose in the financial markets. Perfect timing, no? We are plodding along-painting is done, new hardwood floors ordered, furniture off to the reupholsterers...those things we can't stop midstream. But the pergola and the landscaping are on hold, and may be downscaled. Some cabinets that were to be replaced are now being repurposed with my elbow grease and paintbrush. Windows resealed, not replaced. Not so many new accessories will be purchased (the fun part...)Upside-a major cleanout of 28 years of accumulated stuff has left me feeling like I lost 15 pounds! (I'd say 20, but we still have boxes in the garage where a car should be.)

[Journey]

Whew! I just bought a home - the first one ever on my own - and am finding it a challenge just to removed old-lady wallpaper from the dining room! "Wow," I thought, "this is going to take all day!"

Um, no ... it may take all month! I had to give two months notice at my apartment (I wanted to be in place to vote in a swing state), so am lucky enough to be able to work on it a while then Leave It!

But you know what? Even tho it IS a lot of work (and sweat and toil and etc), this really makes it mine! And I love every moment of claiming my home and sanctuary ^_^

[Marsha]

Have you read Castles in the Air by Judy Corbett? If not, do - it falls squarely into the rehab old house (or, in this case, castle) genre of memoir and it is just delightful. I picked it up without plan at the same time as we moved into a 200 +/- year old farmhouse which needed (and needs) a good deal of love. Reading about a couple restoring a much older structure gave me no small measure of perspective on the challenges we faced.

[The Accidental Housewife]

I too took on a monstrosity of a project some years back. It was a beautiful old house but had such attrocities as black walls and murals of golfers painted in bedrooms. I lived that house with ghost and drafts and loved the character of the house. I painted, sanded, tore out carpet refinished floors and laid tile for 8 years and never completed the project. When I moved from that house I swore I would never do that again. Never say never.

[Danja]

There is an interesting and unsettling article regarding renovations posted online in NYT. It follows a family in Scotland who bought a castle there and have been renovating it now for a few years. http://www.nytimes.com/2008/10/05/realestate/keymagazine/105castle-t.html?ref=garden

[Anna Claire]

Our home--a split-level from the 60s--has the most awful upstairs bathroom. Mauve tile is EVERYWHERE. Except in the places where there is dark brown or gray tile. I love how someone thought the floors, walls, commode and shower should all be the exact same color. Because none of us have enough mauve in our lives.