A Modern Vintage 1700's Farm House, Part 1 :: The Kitchen

Last month, Miss S (my college girl) and I drove to Roxboro, NC, and we got to stay
in our friend Becky's charming old farm house for three whole days!

When we turned off the main highway and drove up her 3-acre long gravel driveway
(you know, the kind where the grass grows between where the tires meet the ground?)
the first thing we noticed is her beautiful wraparound porch and welcoming blue front door.

Her dogs shuffled out to meet us, their bodies wagging in rhythm with their tails.

And when Becky rushed out to greet us with her elated smile and open arms,
we knew that instant that we was going to have a relaxing, fun weekend.

I should have taken a picture that afternoon while we were driving up the driveway.
But, I didn't, so I stole these outside pictures from her FaceBook albums!

This is last Winter.

The original home, built in the late 1700's, consisted of one room, and the kitchen

was in another building, separate from the main house.

Disclaimer: They bought this home with remodeling in mind, so here and there, 

you can see their supplies waiting to be used in projects to be finished or started, just like my house.

(I added that for Becky, who, like most of us when there are areas in our home that are undone, 

kept apologizing for the project areas. I don't even see them! I only see hope and love.)

This is Becky's home this past Spring. With new porch rails.

In the 1800's the main house was connected to the kitchen with more rooms.

Her kitchen is the original one made in the late 1700's.

In the picture below, the main house was the left side of the house.

Her husband, Rob, is a builder, architect, plumber, craftsman, electrician, and carpenter,

and he (with Becky's help) has raised and leveled floors, dug out an enormous basement,

made an in-ground pool, added several bathrooms, taken out walls and ceilings, 

added new wiring, plumbing, flooring. (Lucky girl!)

Her home is an ever-evolving, labor-of-love work-in-progress 

and Miss S and I loved every inch of it!

Today, Becky is sharing her kitchen with us.

The next post will be some other spaces in her home that Miss S and I adored.

What I love the most about Becky's kitchen is that it is functional!

The open cabinets keep everything handy!

Her flooring is the original crooked, wonky, knobby pine that she just painted over in a pale gray.

She finds her ironstone at estate sales and thrift stores.

I love her "pantry" below!

In the side file pockets, she keeps coupons and stuff related to baking and cooking.

Original fireplace! 300 years old!

Ikea pendant lighting.

I gave her the chalkboard pitcher art for her birthday.

It came from Hobby Lobby.

And Becky, who knows me well, took me to her favorite downtown thrift store.

I bought some steak knives, and she bought the china below.

Becky uses the broiler/baking oven often to keep the heat out of the kitchen in the summer.

The picture is of her grandson, Evan, and her rescued pug, Lucy.

I love Lucy.

A sweet love note from her hubby of 25 years!

Through the doorway is her entrance hall.

Her backsplash wall was in sad shape before Rob installed the real wood wainscoting,

not the fake wallpaper I have.

Miss S in the reflection of the mirror.

Rob brought the yellow roses home for Becky that day. 

No special reason, except that he loves her.

Rob built the island with a lower counter, and Becky found the set of chairs in a dumpster!

My kind of gal!

She gave her sink faucet a makeover. It used to look like this, bronze.

Now it looks like this. Brushed nickel spray paint, y'all!

She madeover the counters, too. They had been covered in contact paper.

(See Rob in the picture all the way to the left? He is a most-excellent pizza chef!)

She peeled the contact paper off. Primed the counters.

Then started marbling with whites and grays with a sponge.

Tada!

Everything got painted. Paint covers a multitude of sins, you know.

Or in my case, makeup covers a multitude of sins.

So, concludes the kitchen tour.

Wasn't that fun?

Scones and tea, anyone?

Thank you, Rob, Becky, Evan, and Lucy for the memories.

(And the pictures.)

..
I am over at Sarah's place: Modern Country Style, for a Kitchen Favourites Party!

when decorating becomes dangerous

they crouch in the dark, dusty corners of the backs of shelves.


they lie in ambush of their next clueless clod.


when these culprits cross the line, the time will come
when you're time is up, too.

you're the next victim of their heinous hit.

they lure you in with the promise of polite procurement,
but i'm telling you, it comes with a price.

they play this game with you and with me, their gullible prospects.
you believe that you are the super shopper,
but you are being set up.
you are the sitting duck.

they camouflage their carnage with names like:
good and will.
miracle and hill.
habitat and humanity.
hobby and lobby.
salvation and army.
(see? slews of them are proclaiming to be your savior).


 these goodies grab us with guarantees of good value. 
their gimmick? 


brightly-colored price stickers.

hand-written inticements.

 who can say what will make them snap?

who can tell what will trigger their temper?

(even the anthropolgie lamp i hope to make a knock-off of with the teapots above,
has the name "one lump or two")

($12.50)

[et tu, rachel?]

oh, innocent ones...
please heed my warning.
ponder my pleas.


these bargains become brutal.
you cannot tame these treasures.

how do i know?


i became one of the latest martyrs in the name of thrift store shopping.

on or around the morning 
of the last day of this month of january,
clueless, i approached this harmless, lifeless nightstand.


in need of a facelift, and nothing more,
clearly enamoured, i blindly appraised its worth.


i tore the bottom of the tag and triumphed my way to the checkout register.
but, at what cost did i acquire it?

it was loaded into my cr-v by a jovial, yet shrimp of a fellow,
barely grown into his manhood.
the trunk door was slammed.
my fate was sealed.
he bid me adieu with a wily wave.


on its ride home with me, i heard nary a peep from it,
ne'er a hint of what was to befall me.


i misjudged it.


once we were alone, this plain broyhill became brutal.


upon the loosening of the latch and the lifting of the window,
once the car had been backed into the garage,
and armed with the knowledge that i have had much experience transporting
treasures much more substantial than mr. broyhill,
i leaned in to extract my find and with all the strength i could muster,
i yanked on mr. brutal broyhill,
and he attacked me!!
he snarled and bit my wrist!!
twisted it this-a-way and that-a-way!


i have evidence, people.
cold, hard, immovable fingers facts.
a doctor visit and 8 x-rays later,
i am told i have a severe sprain and must keep my wrist still for three weeks.

my loving friends, however much it pains me to alert you 
(though 50 mg. of tramadol 4x a day sure can ease the ache), 
that such atrocities can and do occur in this world,
it has pained me immeasurably more, as a writer, to type this whole post in lower case letters 
because i cannot use the shift key with my left hand.




my advice is always be looking over your shoulder,
better yet, bring a shopping buddy along to watch your back.
have your husband or a helper to hoist your treasure to its new locale.


or you could be next.

care to spend the night in our guest room?!

.

p.s. i realize there will be some readers of this public service announcement that will remember the last time I was attacked in my own home. For those of you that don't know the sordid details, click here, if you dare.
p.p.s. i need some guest posters--email me if you'd like the job. email link at the top right under my blog header...thank you!!