Well, these images of the house were meant to be shared yesterday, but part of the unpacking process has been playing the game, “where is it”. So, though I had my camera, I did not have the cable that allowed me to share these images digitally. Silly, really. I guess the ease of technology sometimes makes it easy to lose the small elements that make it possible in the first place. I wonder if the first transistors (which are becoming a new thing this year, check an earlier post) elicited such responses as, “Well, if they get any smaller, we’ll never be able to find them!” I am sure to those in 1955 (even with transistor radios just appearing ) the concept of MP3 players would be unimaginable. Not only that, I am sure they would also wonder, “Why on earth would you NEED so much music all of the time?” Another cultural divide opens.
It makes me wonder, how much did music play in the life of the typical 1955 homemaker? I know my music listening has more than been cut in half. At first I noticed it, but now I really don’t. I have a good record collection at this point and my record player is unpacked, but I often find myself not listening to music as often as I once did. I think when I return to painting (pictures not walls)I will listen more, but I am not sure. Is it bad? Good? Not sure it is neither I suppose, just a different view.
I have cd’s of music and radio shows that are in an ‘old radio’ in my kitchen, but even then, I don’t always listen. Although, I do know that many people say the radio was on often back in those days, but I don’t think we were bombarded with noise and music and sound as much as we are today. I am sure the homemaker in my age group in 55 with kids probably wanted to destroy the television and the noise it would hail with the children returning from school. A parent in 1955 must have looked down at the child splayed in front of ‘the set’ glassy eyed and motionless and wondered, “When I was his age I would have been…” And he would have been, too! Only, think how much that has changed. We are so many generations into TV now that the concept of “when I was young” may come up, but honestly most parents today probably spent as much time in front of the TV as kids today, I don’t know.
I remember a few scenes in movies of the 1950s with parents being annoyed by their enraptured children. In “The Man in the Grey Flannel Suit” (which won’t be made into a movie until next year 1956) there is a scene where the father has to haul his children from in front of the TV, commenting about the western that is on. “Is this the only program on,” he comments only to be sucked into it himself while drying and re-drying the same dish he was helping his wife clean moments before. It does lure one in and I wonder why? Well, that was a big digression, on with some photos and news.
Here are some shots of my little antique home: In this first one you can see my orange sofa I rather like. 
It has made my color scheme here the rich oranges and reds of wood tones. While I worked on a concept in the old house for a color scheme for the house, here my furniture just seemed to tell me where it wanted to live and suddenly the disparate parts of my previous home came together and said, “Ta-da, here is your color scheme’.
The deep red of the dining room melds into the oranges and warm tones of the wood floors and ceiling held in check by the pale blue walls. In this same picture on the old door (they are original if you can believe it and they have the old latch system that predates ‘doorknobs’) next the sofa is a hand painted sign that reads “bathroom”. This was for my mother when she lived here as with her Alzheimer's she needed help sometimes. I haven’t the heart to remove it, so it stays. Speaking of my mother, I call this shot ‘mum’s corner’.
The chair was my mother’s chair while she lived here and this was a favorite spot of hers. On the antique table sits a photo of my hubby and his mother when he is a boy on their sailboat. You can just see the old picket fence out front that meanders crookedly along the sidewalk out front. The neighbors beautiful red maple is visible. It is nice to know I can just stroll out the front door and walk to a local eatery or ride my bike into ‘town’. Here you can see the wall color better and the old yellow upholstery of the chair, which was destined to be recovered, is now going to stay. It fits with the tones of the house and I rather like its aged shabby velvet.
Next to mum’s corner sits the piano.
There is much love and frustration in this old thing. It was my husbands piano growing up. He studied classical piano and had at one point been set for Juilliard. The piano has followed us around. We have moved it six times. And one does not move it by themselves, so we have got to know the piano movers fairly well. It is a sight to see them move it. The legs come off and its elegant long beauty becomes odd and disjuncted as it is set on end and wrapped in moving blankets and wedged through doors by sweating men.
What is interesting about the piano now is our last move put it in this house when we had my parents here. They were nice enough to allow us to put it here and when we moved back to the cape to the other house, we had to leave it. That meant it was suffered to various tenants, but we did not want to move it again. Somehow we must have known we were coming back, for there it sat waiting for us. I remember when we finally got back in here that first day not even two weeks ago, after the tenants had left. I was unpacking in the kitchen and the sound suddenly filled the little house. It was so good to hear it sing again at the hands of my hubby.
The bust on it once sat as the mascot for my flower shop. She, too, has moved often with us. She always gets the place of honor, in the front seat of my car when the move. Maybe I am afraid she will come to life and walk off to live with another less nomadic family. Though, I think now she may stay put.
In this same room is the living room fireplace.
At one point in our living here years ago I had wanted to paint the wall and ceilings. Though, it most likely would have been done as the colonial period progressed, the work and detail of the exposed wood is too beautiful to cover with paint and it shall remain as it is. At least my wood paneling is the real thing so somehow I love it. The little chair on the hearth was mine as a small child and I can remember rocking in it for hours in my favorite red nightgown. Leaning there on the right (it will get hung on that wall when I get the right hooks) is an antique cranberry rake that I found one day in the back of an old shops basement when they were having a sale. Cranberries have a big history with the cape. The wood and hand bent metal match the patina of the house’s wood perfectly. Again, it is as if the things I have loved and collected have been waiting for this house. Even the old brass compass/sexton on the mantel has been hid away in it’s old box in storage, now it sits proudly waiting for the Whaling captain to return.
Now, in the dining room I have a lovely deep cranberry red. Another color I will not repaint. It looks a little more blood red than it is in the photo here
but my hubby’s old pre-civil war map of New England looks wonderful against the color and even “Hereford” my stuffed pheasant, seems happy here. This demi-lune side table works great as a bar and extra linen storage in the dining room. You can see the whiskey decanter is rather low, sometimes we need a little nip to help us get through the unpacking process.
In this same room is a built in corner cabinet. I think readers who have followed me for awhile will remember that I had an antique corner cabinet I put in the dining room redo I did at my other house. The funny thing is, that cabinet, had I left it in its original red color, would have gone perfectly in this room, but alas, it is now being enjoyed by the new tenants. But, this dining room has its own built in corner cabinet.
The interior is painted a soft yellow and I was going to paint it the soft blue of the walls to go with my good china, which is rimmed in that color, but I rather like the warm yellow behind the blue and it ties into the kitchen , which is off this room, in the same yellow with red and blue accents. (I’ll show those pictures later).
So, that is the house thus far. The pictures really don’t do it justice, but you can see how simply old things live here with me. Any modern 1950’s items are either in the kitchen or will end up in my studio. I am happy with it. Normally, when I move into a new place, I immediately want to change everything, while here it feels right. The combination of memories of happy and even sad times with my family and friends mixed with the mellow tones and odd angles and slopes of the floor (if you stand in the living room you can drop a marble and it will roll towards the dining room, rather like being on a ship) just seem to fit me somehow. I mean, here we are,the pair of us, anachronistic to the core. We both look ‘of another time’, yet plopped down into the modern world. We will simply shine in our antiquity and let others either enjoy or disregard us, but we both feel very grounded in time. There is a sort of solidity to attaching oneself to a time that has gone by. You can feel a certainty that is not available to you in the unknown future. It gives you a rock upon which to stand as the deluge of life and its uncertain current rushes by. Perhaps, it is indulgent or unrealistic, but it does help one to have a strong base upon which to view the world.
Now, today I am making some blackberry jam and an apple and blackberry pie. Recipes and results will follow tomorrow.
