I have one last house left from mine and hubby's bicycle ride the other night. This little darling has always been my favorite's in the neighborhood. Let me explain why...
When I was in the fifth grade my family took a road trip from Yuma Arizona to St. Louis, Missouri with many stops in between. One of our destinations was to stop and stay with my great Uncle Clarence who lived in a small town in the Midwest that was filled with Victorian homes lining brick paved streets. Across from his house was a huge abandoned Queen Ann with a hexagonal shaped turret. In the upper most part of the turret was a revolving stained glass panel that was lit at night and reflected the sun by day.
I remember my uncle and I creeping across the street, up onto the porch, and looking through the front door windows into what looked like a sleepy dream. Right in the center of the massive hall was a beautifully carved staircase that swept up to the second floor and branched out on either side.
As I stood there gazing in the windows I imagined the room filled with elegant Victorian ladies draped from head to toe in the latest Parisian fashions. Needless to say, I was smitten and have been since.
So, back to the little darling house. When I first saw this little home it sat abandoned and forlorn with no one to care for it. For the most part the gardens were dead, but you could see that at some point in its life it had been well loved. There was a rambling Wisteria that had encroached on the glass walled conservatory and what looked like the bones of a garden maze leading down the path to the conservatory door.
There were untended roses that still had a few blooms and evidence of other once blooming plant life. Old torn lace panels hung in the windows and the paint was peeling away from the structure. There was a for sale sign in the yard so I drug my reluctant husband to look at yet another crumbling mess of a home. His exact words were, "NO!" Don't get me wrong, I have a wonderful loving husband, but we look at these old homes through different eyes. I see the romance of what once was and what could be again, while he sees the money that will be spent, the labor that will be involved and the thought that's a real deal breaker... WE DO ALL OUR OWN WORK! It's true. We've never hired anyone to do anything here at Brambleberry Cottage.
I went home depressed, but I decided to torture myself a bit and drive through the neighborhood on my way home from work each day. And then one day the sign was down and I saw life again at this little home. Everyday I would drive by to see what progress had been made and whether it met my approval. It always did. Little by little the house was transformed into what you see here. The maze is covered with vines and is entered through the side yard by an arbor, the little lions sit guarding the front door, and there are new lace panels in the window.
It's still fun to drive by and dream about what could have been, but then some dreams are meant for someone else.