Containing my Enthusiasm.

Spring flowers can make even a dumpster beautiful.  At 323, the daffodils have emerged and the massive magnolia tree in the front yard seems to be only moments from blooming.  I eagerly await what other "surprises" this unexplored yard will yield (provided, of course, these surprises are limited to perennials and buried treasure, not drainage issues.)

I universally love gardens, as I don't think it is possible to create one that isn't inherently beautiful.  I  have long admired those tidy little geometric gardens made up of perfectly manicured boxwoods, and am charmed by overflowing English gardens that seem to exist without any plan at all.  


Enter reality and a lack of both a green thumb and sprawling estate.  Throw in an active four-year old, his tribe of equally active cohorts, and the concept of a formal garden landscape becomes downright silly.  What I really need is a backyard that can endure an impromptu game of catch or a stampede of toddlers.  On the back burner my tulip-tiptoeing goes, in favor of...the container garden.


The good news is a container garden is not only practical, it is portable.   And as these images illustrate, the options reach well beyond the confines of the standard terracotta pot.

Photo Courtesy of Better Homes & Gardens


A sweet little wagon turned salad cart, which can be moved from
sun to shade and then right up to your kitchen door.

Photo Courtesy of Better Homes & Gardens

An elevated window box provides clearance for those 48" and under.

 Photo Courtesy of Better Homes & Gardens


Pretty pots perched on a fence and [hopefully] out of harm's way.

Photo Courtesy of www.marthastewart.com

An invisible trellis and vining flower take the garden to a new level.

So for now,  I am inclined to "contain" my gardening ideals in favor of a well-used backyard.  Maybe by the time a meandering garden is practical, my thumb will have changed color.

Welcome, Spring.  I've missed you.

  

My Blue Period.

Only days into demo, surrounded by growing piles of broken plaster and splintering wood, I daydream about putting it all back together again.  I begin to sing the blues...


For the moment, "Green" will need to step aside as  I have a confession.  I am in full-blown, head-over-heels, dance-on-the-ceiling, LOVE with the color blue.  (Where is Oprah's couch when I need a good jump?)   Having already lived through a beige phase and dabbled with earth tones (it was college,)  I suppose it was only a matter of time before I would succumb to the cool, soothing shades created by none other than Mother Nature herself.  What did surprise me, however, is how hard I fell.  I am officially smitten by shades of the Caribbean, Robin's Egg Blue and Aquamarine.


The good news is, I discovered not only am I not alone, there is a whole community  suffering from the same affliction.   And, thanks to an intervention by my design-savvy friend Shiloh, I am introduced to a support group:  House of Turquoise .  Contained within its virtual walls, is a swoon-worthy collection of the most incredible rooms adorned in, you guessed it, shades of turquoise.  Feverishly, I begin right-clicking and squirreling away inspirational images that feature these tantalizing tones.  


I have compiled a few of my favorites below.  My enthusiasm, unfortunately,  made me a bit sloppy when it came to documenting  sources, so I am not entirely able to give credit where credit is due.  If you discover I have inadvertently lifted your photo, please consider it an act of admiration and a result of novice blogger-ing.   


No captions necessary.  Just a deep breath...

Photo Courtesy of  http://www.houseofturquoise.com/

Ahhh...serenity now.

   

Thinking Green.

St. Patrick’s Day seems like the perfect opportunity to think "Green.”  My beloved 323 will become the first LEED (Leadership in Energy and Environmental Design) certified pre-existing home in Alexandria, Virginia.  In other words, not only are we bringing our circa 1936 dreamhouse-in-the-making into the 21^st century, but we will be making energy and eco-conscious choices that will hopefully allow it to seamlessly transition into the next. (For those of you who haven’t nodded off and are interested in learning more about LEED, you can access more information via this link: 
http://www.usgbc.org/DisplayPage.aspx?CMSPageID=222.)

Here’s the thing…I’m not really a “Green” gal.  Yes, I have embraced chemical-free cleaning products, try to buy local and organic, and would never have considered anything but no-VOC paints to cover the walls of my son’s nursery.  Nevertheless, the idea of countertops made from compressed cardboard boxes or furniture made from recycled bottles launches me back in time to college coffee tables created from precariously stacked cases of Busch Light.

Hours of tireless googling later, I emerge enlightened.  Green is mainstream...heck, even kind of fashionable.  Check out the kitchen in the Kennedy's "EcoFabulous" residence:

Showcasing white, recycled wood cabinets, quartz-like recycled content countertops and a gleaming bamboo floor, what's not to love?  Many more inspirational rooms  (they have 6 kids!) can be found on their website:
http://ecofabulous.com/ecohome/kennedy-green-home/

Maybe it is easy being Green.

Demolition.

The dumpster has arrived and with it comes the official consummation of my relationship with 323.  I am giddy with excitement, but my mind is muddied with unfamiliar terms like “fascia” and “furring.”  I have a lump in my throat.  Fortunately, the guys leave little opportunity for cold feet.  A mere three hours later, an overflowing dumpster confirms there is no turning back.  So, the journey begins and I channel my inner-Dorothy from Jerry McGuire:  “I love you for the house you want to be, and I love you for the house you almost are.”

A Love Letter.

Dear 323,

I will be honest.  I have loved others before you.  Those who preceded you…the quaint (translation: minuscule) condominium with the noisy pipes, the 1970s-era split level full of my “elbow grease,” and even the temporary rental in which I currently reside, will always retain a spot in my heart.  But you, 323, are different.  You are the one I have been waiting for.  You are The One.

The reality is I fell in love with you, or at least the idea of you, a long time ago.  The iconic house from Father Of The Bride (complete with a backyard wedding and roaming swans) has long served as inspiration for my ideal abode.  That said my affection began much earlier.  Mesmerized by rooms filled with pink canopy beds and ruffled curtains, I would pour over the JcPenney catalog until the pages were tired and creased.  I would spend hours in my room staging vignettes of carefully posed Barbie dolls frolicking amongst picnicking Cabbage Patch Kids.  I taught myself how to make pillows, and made lots of them.  I remain a pillow junkie to this day. 

So that brings me back to you, 323.   Several years and countless stops later, we finally meet face-to-face.  Admittedly, you were not quite as I had imagined, but my heart raced when I walked through your door.  I just knew it was meant to be.  Bearing a kitchen from the 1950s and walls of teak paneling, you had been left largely undisturbed for the last half century.  You were quiet and understated, yet had a presence.  Your condition, I respectfully described to others as “vintage.”  Sometimes, for emphasis, I would refer to it as “vintage-vintage."  One thing was clear, however.  You had been loved, and the family who had lived within your walls for the last fifty years, was proud to call you home.

So, tomorrow, we will begin our journey of reinvention together.   I’ll be honest…I’m nervous.  Have the countless hours I’ve spent dismembering design magazines and stashing away their pages of “inspiration” adequately prepared me for this??  Only time will tell.  But, be assured, as they begin to carry away your doors for safe-keeping and begin to remove your well worn finishes, I am in this for the long haul and excited for our future together.   

All my love,

L