6 November 2016
Introducing: our house-spot.
Six apple trees, gnarled with age and blossom-heavy.
One long low ex-cowshed, with a wood boat, snappy in white and green, resting on hay bales.
One small room, lofted up above the ground, with space for a bed and a couple of chairs.
One patch of scoria-pink concrete, scruffy with moss and age.
One expanse of thick grass, waiting for an old house brought new to this sunny spot.
Tomorrow, we’re setting off on a hunt. The two blondes, mama and daughter (me), and the papa (advisor, chief knowledge and money holder).
We’re on a hunt for wooden windows, french doors and what mama calls ‘charm’, which of course can only be found in the houses that have years.
This idea is only two days old, but it’s spread quickly. From a spore of a thought on a car ride down our country road, to an itch in our fingers to scrape old paint and release kauri floors from faded carpet.
While I was thinking about this still-incubating idea, another idea (aka: this blog) occurred to me. I’m not a professional photographer, or renovator, or writer, or anything really that is related to this new blog.
What I am, though, is a Kiwi 20-something who loves to draw beauty out of old things, who has grown up in what I consider to be a very nifty family, and who likes to document things that matter to me (my dozens of filled journals and nearly full-to-bursting hard drive of photos will attest to that).
So that is what this is: me, documenting the whole process. Missing out none of the gory bits, the sad bits, or the amazing bits.
I have no clue whether this idea of ours will fizzle; whether we’ll find a house or whether we’ll decide not to do it. But, I do want to capture the whole process; not just show the finished product.
Whatever happens, from here on out.