Other than a handful of news and feature articles and the occasional freelance job, my writing production has flatlined. There are a few things rattling around the inside of my head–an essay here, a short story there–but nothing that makes me want to carve out some time to write for hours. The inspiration just hasn’t
Category: Antique Housing
Located on a small Maine island of 75 full-time residents.
Walking through the yard on a snowy morning (in pajamas). Cut to shreds by cold thorns.
It’s winter in Massachusetts. The air is cold and damp and the ground is constantly squishy from the disappearing and reappearing frosts each morning or the frequent drizzle. We finally paid someone to clear the leaf, stick, and tree debris from the pre-Halloween hurricane. A task I finally had to admit I was incapable of
Halloween came and went and the kids managed to make the most of it even though the lack of neighborhoods, sidewalks, and street lamps prevented neighborly trick or treating. We put them in the car and drove the mile or so to the center of town to enjoy organized trick or treating on sidewalks that
Apparently, in an old house there is a lot of settling. And I don’t mean settling for inefficient electricity and heat, non-existent closet space, or chimney labyrinths that evade safety lining. The house itself has clearly shifted around over its many centuries of existence. One of my many fantasies involving the purchase of this house
A few nights ago, when the temperature dropped into the low to mid-40s, Ben tripped a circuit breaker after plugging in a small space heater in one of the bedrooms. The girls were in the tub and the entire new addition of the house went dark. There was much screaming and splashing of water. We
Today I decided to finally brave the debris in the cellar hole. Last week I gave our landlord – and our neighbor – the medicine bottle I found during a 10 minute search of the ground outside of the hole. I assumed there were so many treasures to be found that I should part with one
We live in an almost 300 year old house on a pretty busy two lane road. While the speed limit is 25 MPH and the road twists and turns with multiple blind spots, cars and trucks race by quite often. So when I’m walking the dog along the non-existant shoulder of this two lane death road,
Local church, town meeting house, and school It’s a phrase I think to myself throughout the day: twenty minutes away. As in, grocery store. Twenty minutes away. Starbucks. Twenty minutes away. Take-out. Twenty minutes away. Gas station. Twenty minutes away. Target. Twenty minutes away. Shopping mall. Twenty minutes away. I find myself trying to gauge just
Slowly getting used to our 292 year old house in the forest. Little things like window blinds and Target and IKEA storage make things surprisingly reassuring. The newness distracts me from the occasional squishy floorboard I sink into and the various wood and old smoke smells throughout the house. The weird little window screens that