Whew! Only eleven days since we closed on our small-town Victorian (with Thanksgiving smack-dab in the middle), and Renaissance Man and I are being not-so-kindly reminded by our bodies that we are 13 years older than we were the last time we renovated a house! What, pray tell, have we done? 😅 But don't worry. This post isn't about aches and pains, but about PROGRESS. Even if you follow @smalltownvictorian on Instagram (thank you for that!), I promise blog posts will have a lot more pics and details, so here we go . . . We knew when we bought the house that both HVAC units were long overdue for replacement, so right off the bat, we had to tackle that. It's a real bummer when the first big ... Keep Reading...
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THE FINALLY FARMHOUSE THAT WASN’T . . . When one adventure ends, another begins
Today Renaissance Man and I became the new owners of this 1908 small-town Victorian. I sure didn't see this coming . . . Dear old house, What a surprise you are! We weren’t supposed to be together—or so I never dreamed. You sit pretty in the small town I moved out of when we sold our last big, beautiful old house and moved to the country. By now we thought we’d have built and started enjoying our smaller, new-to-look-old farmhouse — but Life happened . . . and happened . . . and happened again. Two years almost to the day after saying goodbye to our old house and living in a fifth wheel onsite at the farm—ready to build “any day now” — our Finally Farmhouse dream is ... Keep Reading...
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Five Minute Friday: RUSH
It's time for Five Minute Friday where every week there's a new word prompt encouraging five minutes of unedited writing. Today's prompt is START It's a never-ending battle, this learning to not rush through the days. They're full - FULL - of so many good things, but they're sometimes distracting. Sometimes not full of the best things, and rushing makes it easy to overlook that fact. If there's one thing I'm learning during these (so far!) 21 months of living in a fifth wheel and trying to get a house built is that rushing doesn't make things move any faster; it just complicates them. I'm learning to listen to that Voice that says, Be still, and I know that I am ... Keep Reading...
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Five Minute Friday: LOYAL
Happy Friday, my friends. Yes, I know it's been awhile—and I've missed you! Thanks for not giving up on me. Really. . . Thank you. Soon I'll catch you up on the continuing crazies around here. Or, hopefully, we'll just be able to put them behind us for good and jump into the next best thing. Until then, my sweet Renaissance Man and I are trying really hard to remember . . . This morning when I woke up and saw this week's word prompt for Five Minute Friday, it stirred something in my spirit and made me want to write. So here I am. And here's the word that captured my attention . . . START It's an intriguing word: LOYAL. It seems in our world today we associate loyalty with pooches ... Keep Reading...
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WILL WE EVER BREAK GROUND ON OUR FINALLY FARMHOUSE? Switching gears {yet again} . . . but still moving forward
Walking out of the South Carolina hotel room, we dodged mid-morning cleaning carts lining the hallway as we made our way to the elevator. And then I heard her. With voice strong and clear, full of confidence, the housekeeper spoke of an eternal God—her God—who would call her home someday whenever he was good and ready. She said His are the commandments that matter most. It seems she was tired of all of the “can’t do” rules at the place where she lives. She wanted more freedom for herself and her family. Someday I’m gonna have me a house where I can plant my flowers and take care of my yard. With a front porch I can sweep—and a back porch where I can put out some little chairs and sit outside and drink my coffee and ... Keep Reading...
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Choices in the Mist: Living a life that matters
This isn’t your typical Mother’s Day post—at all. But it’s what’s on this mother’s mind today . . . It was July 2005, and I stood in the British Museum in London looking at the most well-preserved human I’d ever seen, little tufts of red hair still intact on his scalp. He had died more than 5500 years prior, his mummified remains housed in the museum since 1901. I felt strangely drawn to the once-alive body as my mind began to ponder the cycle of life; birth through death as we know it. The now-nameless man had lived and breathed and had his being on this earth just as I do. He had experienced infanthood, childhood, manhood. Hopefully someone had loved him, and he them. Mere days ... Keep Reading...
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10 FAVORITE TABLESCAPES: In honor of the 500th Tablescape Thursday at Between Naps on the Porch
My foray into blogging began in July 2010 when I joined the 100th Tablescape Thursday celebration at Between Naps on the Porch. Today marks the 500th celebration! Congratulations, Susan, on ten amazing years of playing in the dishes! Although my tablescaping is limited these days (as our living-in-300-square-feet saga continues), I couldn't pass up the opportunity to join Tablescape Thursday's party and link up 10 of my favorite tablescapes. They're not necessarily my all-time favs. Tablescapes are a bit like children: you love them all for different reasons! So here they are . . . in no particular order. Click on the titles to see the original posts. TABLESCAPE DEBUT KEY TO MY HEART . . . ... Keep Reading...
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The Way of the Cross: Still relevant today
This post was first published here Easter 2015. The young pastor friend has moved on to a larger church in another state, but his words still resonate three years later. I needed to read them today. Perhaps you do, too. Happy Easter, my friends. Weeks ago I was touched by a prayer, its words penned and lifted by my friend, Reverend Andrew Whaley, pastor of First Presbyterian Church here in Jefferson City, Tennessee. He's younger than my children... and wise beyond his years. I've been waiting until today—the beginning of Holy Week—to share its beauty with you. May you be blessed, encouraged, and challenged by its truths even as I continue to be. The way of the cross looks ... Keep Reading...
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Shhh. . . Soaking up the silence
Saturday morning. I’m sitting in my little trailer having my quiet time; praying Ephesians. Reflected in the glass cabinet door across the room is blowing smoke from the outdoor smoker Renaissance Man fired up earlier this morning before loading up the week’s trash and heading to the dump. Meals for grieving friends—and our dinner—will be ready in a few hours. I’m grateful for the quiet. I have a day full of computer work to do (and a few more windows to tackle that will have to wait for another day), but before I get started—while I’m home alone—I’m soaking up the silence. Other than a truck on the road a mile away, the only sound I hear is a persistent bird calling for spring to “hurry!” Be still . . ... Keep Reading...
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MAKE IT STOP! {Translation: Let it start!}
One whole month since we met here. It’s been a hard one . . . A month ago I thought we were right on the cusp of breaking ground on our Finally Farmhouse. A month later, I still think that. START I’m tired. The past 16 months of living in 300 square feet, driving muddy roads, cooking in a tiny kitchen, and having to go to a hotel just to enjoy a bath is getting old. You might say I’m just about over it. And if that weren’t enough, so many other areas of our life are “crazy”. Job transition continues, community work is exciting and affirmed, but there are never enough hours in the day to get everything done. Church leadership calls for intense spiritual focus—and ... Keep Reading...
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HIDDEN TREASURE: Antique log cabin
It was Summer 2015 when Renaissance Man and I came upon this site . . . We were looking at property, considering whether or not to purchase and restore its old farmhouse—to make it a NEW old house in the country. Hidden in the trees was this small log cabin made of hand-hewn logs. This cabin—on the oldest farm in our East Tennessee valley. Could it be the original cabin from the 18th century? We could tell it had been moved (and improperly rebuilt). It had also been used as a pig shed—and storage for junk—and the tin roof had caved in. And yet, those antique logs called our names. We didn't buy the property. The farm we already owned just across the valley had ... Keep Reading...
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MY WINDOWS TO THE WORLD: Restoring antique windows—a labor of love
As I prepared this post for you, I came across pics taken the very first time we walked the land that is now our Wild Rose Farm. It was November 2011 . . . and we became its caretakers on January 6, 2012. That was six years ago. For the first five years, Wild Rose Farm provided an oft-much-needed respite a mere 10 minutes away from the old house we'd restored in town. It served as my "window to the world", in a sense, as I spent many hours here reading, journaling, praying . . . hiking, taking photographs, even tablescaping. Over time, our hearts were drawn ever more often to this place of natural beauty, and we began dreaming about building a new "old" farmhouse. Last week, we ... Keep Reading...
