Wondering...

I'm wondering why the builders didn't show up yesterday; I'm anxious to begin tiling the bathroom.

Also wondering if it matters that the kitchen sink front is not attached to the cabinets yet, and if it will affect the countertop installation that is scheduled to happen around 8:AM today...

I'm wondering if the countertop guy will have the right tool to attach the sink front since there's not a chance in hell that the builders will be down here by 8:AM.

I'm just wondering how it will all go down. I suppose I'll come back and tell you later. And post pictures of our NEW KITCHEN COUNTERTOPS!!!! I hope.

Bathroom Tile

Tomorrow is theoretically the day we will begin tiling the floor. By "we" of course I mean my contractor, or his son, with me guiding the layout. I don't know anything about tiling. But I'd love to learn, so I'm excited.

For months, I have been thinking about how we'd like our tile laid out in the bathroom. The possibilities are limitless. It didn't take us long at all to choose the tile, an Italian-style ceramic from Home Depot. The layout is an entirely different story, and graph paper just wasn't cutting it for my brain. I had to physically lay some tiles down on the floor and move them around.


That's what we did tonight, Number One and I played with different combinations, and I believe we came up with a configuration we both like. I'll let you know how it goes.


Also, on what I hope was our final trip to Home Depot the other day, we picked up the bathroom vanity top:

A Labyrinth

Sometime during the night of June 1st into June 2nd, I had an epiphany. I am going to build a labyrinth on the ranch. I actually remembered this when I awoke on June 2nd, so it must be important. I mentioned this to Number One, and he simply said, "Okay." No questions, just "okay." It must be important.

I believe it all started back in 1994. I was working at, and equally exhausted and enamored by, The Grand Hotel, a magnificent, sparkling gem of a property on Mackinac Island in Michigan. A romantic place, accessible only by ferry boat or airplane, where there are no automobiles, only bicycles and horses, Mackinac is a spectacular experience. I was enamored also by the Musser family, who has owned the hotel for many years, and are dedicated stewards of this historic place. I admired Amelia Musser, a posh and elegant woman, of whom I caught glimpses during the season, but I don't remember specifically meeting her in person.

In my memory of that summer, a woman (who was quite possibly Lauren Artress) was either a guest of Mrs. Musser, or was doing a presentation at the hotel, or both. Regardless, this woman was into labyrinths. I had no idea what that meant at the time.

I don't have any particular memories of the woman, or any talks or exposure to anything labyrinthine. I do, however, still have a sticker. It is silver, with a purple labyrinth imprinted on it. I believe it is from Grace Cathedral in San Fransisco. And it intrigues me to this day. I still don't really know what it means.

But it is this image, purple on silver, and the name of the cathedral with which I awoke on June the 2nd. Some internet research has put it all together. It seems that now, there is a labyrinth at the Grand Hotel, and I'm certain it was Mrs. Musser's influence that brought it into being.

I want to go to there.

image from the Petoskey library website

Since I have never walked a labyrinth, or seen one in person for that matter, I ordered two books, written by Dr. Lauren Artress of Grace Cathedral. Walking a Sacred Path and The Sacred Path Companion: A Guide to Walking the Labyrinth to Heal and Transform. The books arrived in two days. Reading Part One in The Sacred Path Companion, the very first sentence drew me in: "In modern culture, we need to be able to quiet our minds." Indeed we do. I will let you know more after I do more reading, but I do feel that a labyrinth is something I need in my life.


I have learned that both the Grand Hotel and the Grace Cathedral labyrinths are modeled after a labyrinth at Chartres Cathedral in France, which was constructed in the year 1200. I want to go to there as well.


For reasons unknown to me, building a labyrinth on the ranch is my current mission. I don't know where I will build it, or even how or when, but I will build it. It will take a lot of planning, and honestly I am not anticipating it being started until after construction on our house has ended. But it will come into being. Of that, I am certain.

H-Bomb's Photography Class

The only thing I signed H-Bomb up for this whole summer was a 4-H photography "class." We went to it yesterday. The kids were given a disposable camera and divided into groups. They learned a bit about viewpoint, composition, and "trick" photography. H-Bomb took a couple extra photos with my digital camera.




The rest of the photos will be developed tomorrow, and if there are any good ones I'll share them. H-Bomb and the rest of the kids get to pick one favorite photo and enter them in the County Fair in August.


On the way home, we stopped and picked some flowers. It's that time of year again! (I took the flower photo)

On The Way To Town Today...

This is what we saw in our normally dry, desert canyon.
(don't miss the two videos!)

The Doors

I have been working on my doors all weekend long. Except for yesterday, when I was too tired. I've been sanding (wearing a mask, yes, Dad), painting, glazing and thinking about applying stain on top of it all. I am loving how they are turning out.


RanchHand came home from town the other day, and came into the barn when I was working on the doors. He said he had seen some old doors at one of the thrift stores, and thought of me because "they were in a lot better shape than these old doors you're trying to use."

I've been thinking about that. It's more than that. I'm not just "trying to use them" for the sake of saving money, or for the sake of reusing things. Both of those are admirable reasons, but for me, it's so much more than that. I'm not really interested in using random doors, even if they may be in better condition. Quite honestly, these doors are in fine shape. They just don't make 'em like they used to.

Using these old doors is honoring the history of this place, this ranch we call home, and the people who have passed this way. This rich history is so much more than we'll ever know, despite the old stories and the old cowboys who still tell them if they're able. If only these doors could talk...


I'm sure each of these doors had a long life prior to being installed here at the ranch. Ranchers, especially older generations, were good at saving money and good at "making do" with what was available. (see, we're doing that too). So somebody probably bought these doors, or they rescued them from somewhere, or somebody just gave them away and they ended up here.

Installed on the bunkhouses, and one from the old stone house, these doors were witness to many things, and held up through it all. The comings and goings of hundreds of cowboys, ranch hands and farmers who opened, closed, slammed, kicked, punched them countless times. The cowboys' women, whether wives or girlfriends, and probably even some children. Who knows how many whiskey-stumbling cowboys came home from the bar to these doors? Or how many different musical instruments were played inside or outside of the doors, or how many exaggerated stories of wild bulls and horses and women to which they've been silent witness?

Someone thought enough of these doors to save them, put them in one of the cellars so they'd be safe from the harsh desert elements, just waiting for Number One and I to run across so many years later. For that, I am thankful.


You see, these doors symbolize our connection to this place. The new to the old. We are connected to all these folks, and they to us, by these doors. In my mind it's similar to brides carrying "something old, something new..." The doors are our "something old" that we've chosen to carry with us into our new life in this new ranch home we're building.


I don't know how many coats of paint are on the doors. I didn't strip them. I'm sure most of it is lead-based because of the age. That is why I wore a mask when I sanded them. But I also didn't want to strip off the history, the layers of wear and use. I wanted those layers to show through the new paint.

The door we will use in the pantry has a large gash on the back, almost through to the other side. (When RanchHand's son started to fill it in, I asked him to leave it). Wouldn't you like to know how it got there? I know I would. Check it out when you're in the new pantry and share your theory.


Why is there a number "6" on one of the doors? Were cowboys assigned a bunkhouse, "you'll room with Old Joe in #6" or was it a cast-off from an old motel? No one knows for sure.

One thing we do know: these doors are not just any doors. They are rich with history and with meaning, and I am honored to use them in our new home.

Gardening

I love my garden. When I am gardening, I think about my family. I remember my Great Uncle Otto, with his acres of vegetables. (I don't know how big his garden actually was, but I was little, and it seemed humongous). When we'd visit in the summer, we would get a tour of the garden as soon as we got out of the car. At least that's how I remember it. I mostly remember his corn...rows and rows, and my Great Aunt Elfie boiling a dozen ears per person for dinner. I remember the adults, my dad, his cousins, my mom, sitting on the back steps, shucking all that corn. I don't believe I'm exaggerating...it was 12 ears per person, right? I don't plant corn these days, but I do think of Uncle Otto when I am digging in the dirt, planting and harvesting.

I remember my Grandpa. He had a garden, too, out at the lake house, and I do remember spending time out there with him, but mostly I remember his flowers. Whether they were for himself or for my grandma or both, I remember hanging flowers, begonias, fuchsias (I think). I couldn't tell you if he really planted these specific flowers (I bet my mom will correct me), but when I saw those particular flowers in the greenhouse this spring, I just had to have them because they made me think of him.

I also think of my dad, with his electric deer fence protecting his precious tomatoes, strawberries, cucumbers, corn, etc. My dad takes any kids who are at the house out to the garden to pick whatever is ripe for dinner, and I remember H-Bomb eating whole ears of raw corn before he made it back to the house a summer or two ago.

I'm not sure why I remember the men in the family being gardeners. Are/were the women all the harvesters and cooks? Someone can tell me, I'm sure. That's just what I remember, what I think about. I'm sure they had a thousand little secret tricks for growing and gardening, and I don't know any of them. I wish I did.

I still get excited with each little plant that goes into my EarthBoxes.

I don't dig in the dirt so much, although this year I did replace the soil in all my EarthBoxes with new soil. So there was some digging. I used the old soil to make a couple new beds where I planted cabbages, melons, strawberries and some lavender. I moved all the EarthBoxes and their elevating cement blocks closer to the new fenceline. Now the tomatoes and peppers will get even more sun. Just wait and see how big they get this year!

I found a large black widow spider in one of the cement blocks, and smashed it with a rock. I have kids who play in the yard, after all.

After planting about 8 EarthBoxes worth of tomatoes and peppers, I noticed on the bags of Miracle Gro Garden Soil, which I've been using in my boxes for more than two years now, it says "Not for use in containers" or some such nonsense. It works just fine in my boxes. It also says to "wear gloves when working with this product." More nonsense. It's not like sat down and ate it with a spoon. I'm just going to stop reading these things and enjoy my garden as it grows. I'm sure my Grandpa and Uncle Otto would be proud.