(Exposed hearth, in the kitchen.)
Looking at my notes, it seems I tried a second time to start my story about the house.
September 27, 2014
In a few weeks, John and I will be celebrating our 25th wedding anniversary.
Some people celebrate by going on extravagant vacations. Some throw big parties. But we’re taking the occasion to move, back in time, way back.
A few days ago, John and I closed on a new house, which is actually very old. Built in the 17th century, with a few remodels and additions over the years, it will be not just a house but an adventure; an opportunity to stage a live-in historical art installation and excavation of the soil where we will garden. The property also includes a garage with an apartment on top, which we’re planning to convert to an art studio and gallery for our daughters – Sophie (recently graduated from RISD with a degree in art, majoring in illustration) – and Isabelle (a freshman at The Cooper Union for the Advancement of Science and Art, School of Art).
(My artist daughters.)
John and I camped at the house on Friday night. About 3 in the morning, I heard something moving around, but then it stopped. Also, during the night John thought he saw an apparition.
This old home (I should learn to say “first period home”) needs some work: some rewiring, some foundation work, some drainage along the front, some heating repairs, some structural reinforcement; removal of the kitchen cabinets, plumbing renovations… And then the fun stuff – exploring the hidden fireplaces (three fireplaces are actually exposed; one was probably built sometime in the 20th century, behind which, according to an architect, we should find the original hearth, at the center of the building).