Out With The Old In With The New Part 2

The day dawned with a loud bang on the door downstairs. After my long journey of little sleep the day and night before, I had collapsed upstairs in a heap on the queen sized mattress that was ever so carefully balanced on the double bed frame. On my way down the staircase I noticed that the queen box spring was leaning non chalantly against the wall of what used to be the dining room. The incessant knocking meant that I would have to wait to solve the puzzle of the bed and frame and move onto what was happening outside.

I opened the door to find a delivery man who was very intent in bringing in the new refrigerator I had ordered...NOW. He appeared fairly agitated so I tried my best Alberta girl charm in an effort to calm him down. It did not work very well. He wanted to get this behemoth in the door and be gone. I noticed that he had a small white truck which somehow held the rather large white fridge. He quickly jumped into the front seat, cranked it into reverse and tried to maneouvre the rear end towards my rickety stairs. In his rush he hit the gas instead of the brake and almost took the whole staircase right off! Things were pretty much going off the rails. I looked at what used to be my front porch and didn't really know what to say other than that we should maybe try the dolly. He let out a heavy sigh as we moved the hulking beast onto what was left of the porch and squeezed it through the entry way. I, was by now getting pretty worked up myself as this whole situation was going to cost me more than the price of a new refrigerator! When he turned to leave - leaving the hulking refrigerator on the porch step - I firmly suggested that he needed to stay and help me drag it into place in the dining room.

Dragging it across the lino in the kitchen was a reasonable exercise - but by the time we hit the dining room - the wheels got all tangled up in the stringy bits of the indoor outdoor 1960s yellow and orange smelly mess that was the carpet. I gave up the fight and sent him out the door, then sat in the kitchen contemplating my fate. I had the ruins of a rickety staircase barely hanging onto the front of the chateau, I had a large refrigerator stuck in the middle of what used to be a dining room and I had a box spring plastered against the wall that I coudn't get up the stairs to the master bedroom. And it wasn't even noon yet!

I didn't even have time to feel sorry for myself as suddenly there was another knock at the door. Someone named Bruce who had come to take away my old furnace. He also had a truck...

Out With The Old In With The New Part 1

May turned into June turned into July before I was able to return to my beloved "Chateau", however time was not wasted while I was 3000 miles away. I was on my own now as the Chateau had failed to impress my husband on the maiden voyage. In many ways I was just as happy to be left to my own devices. This was to be my undertaking, my space, my house. I took great solace in the peace I thought I would find amongst the hills and waves of my new surroundings. I was still so very tender from the events of the year before and needed a place to grieve and shed my tears in privacy. I needed a distraction and I needed to feel that I was building - or rather - re - building something. Instinctively I knew this would be a cathartic process. I had no idea then that it would become a long term, passionate love affair.

So I took mental stock of all that was missing or broken and began to make my list. Sears online and I did a robust business. A new couch and chair were in order as was a new refrigerator. Before I headed east again I arranged with Frank (a local) to come out and install a new furnace, water heater and pump. I called the lovely, ever patient Mary at the Sears depot in Parrsboro and arranged for delivery of my items. Someone would meet me at the Chateau with all my gooides the day after I returned.

Yet again I eagerly boarded the red eye to Halifax. The car rental people began to know me by name and vehicle as I happily wobbled off the 6:30AM flight. I had by now fallen into a routine. Wait half an hour for luggage (you'd think it would be faster that early in the morning!), cruise past the car rental counter - chit chat with the guy or gal there. They always asked me if I knew where I was going. I always replied yes, though after no sleep on some flights (when the Maritime boys came back from Fort Mac and were a bit too loud for me to drown out with headsets) I wasn't as sure. I always got a 4 door with lots of room for luggage as I was hauling all kinds of gems from the homefront in Alberta. Extra dishes and pictures and knick knacks. Things belonging to my mother that would have a new life out east. New bedding. New tablecloths. A maritime flavoured wreath from Winners (why I thought they wouldn't have a shell wreath in Nova Scotia escapes me!) I was nesting!! Off I would go - stop at the Timmy's for coffee (double double) and an apple fritter and down the highway I would drive. I'd get the Halifax Chronicle to read once I got "home" and either drove along in blissful silence - breathing in the moist morning air - or I'd crank up the CD and sing along at the top of my lungs. All to celebrate the joy I felt at being in this place.

I didn't care that the furnace didn't work. I didn't care that there was no water. I was free to be with my thoughts and to do what I needed to do in order to get past these untimely partings. Many conversations were had with both my friend Gerri and with my mother on these drives to my reprieve. I would drive up the hill and stop in front of the by now, very wiggly stairs. Turn the key in the lock and...I was home.

Signed Sealed Delivered

Signed Sealed Delivered

I’m Yours!

I found my dream cabin late on a cold wintry Alberta day in January. I had been combing the websites and came upon Betty Ann’s real estate page. There was a house – clearly in need of some love – in a place called Spencer’s Island. Spencer's Island was about a half hour away from Parrsboro on the Glooscap Trail that wound its way along the beautiful coast. The house was a mere five minute walk from the Bay of Fundy. It was a very small community and I would have 2 - 3 acres to call my own. What really got my attention was the fact that it was being sold with all the furniture and everything else in it! OMG! My mind was racing! A flurry of emails ensued – I now had floor plans – it had 3 bedrooms upstairs, a living room, a kitchen, a pantry and a bathroom (thank god!). It had electricity that worked (very important detail), a partially new roof and was heated with a furnace and/or a wood stove. I also had some pictures. The best part was the price. It was more than I had planned but I was determined to do some bargaining. Deep inside I felt that this place was meant for me. I called Betty Ann and made my offer.

Later that evening I received an email that said the offer was REJECTED. I was completely deflated. My hopes were dashed and I trundled off to bed in a sorry state. The next morning I crawled downstairs early and opened my email. I let out a WHOOP when I found the one saying that if I could come up in price a bit the family would consider another offer. My husband thought that I had hurt myself with all the shrieking that was going on. I did the math, considered all sources of income (savings and bank of Dad) and proceeded to email in my final offer. This offer was everything I had and could afford in the world. It was so very important to me to have this place - Doug thought I had lost my mind - but I just knew this was meant to be. I hit send.

Within the hour I had a message that said: Offer ACCEPTED!!! Hooray!

Now I needed to fly out and inspect the place in person. And in a sign of things to come, I needed to find local folks who could help me. Luckily I had built one house and supervised another so knew a header from a footer, but this house was built in 1948 - who knew what I would find! I was already in a state when I landed from an overnight flight and with google map in hand I headed north to Truro and then did a quick dosee do towards Mass Town Market, hung a right and then a left and was finally heading west on the Glooscap trail. Once more my heart was captured by the scenery. I wanted desperately to stop and take it all in but I was more desperately wanting to get to Betty Ann. At last I spotted the Timmy's and found Betty Ann waiting for me. We drove on chatting amicably - I of course had a thousand questions. We turned left headed for Diligent River, Fox River and Port Greville. I could barely stand it! The roads wrapped themselves around the hills and bobbed up and down on our way to Spencer's Island. The Bay played hide and seek and it was a new thrill every time we rounded a bend. Absolutely breathtaking. Suddenly, there was the actual Spencer's Island across from the village. I let out a long sigh. This truly felt like a homecoming.. My almost new home was tucked away on a hill away from the rest of the community. That suited me just fine. I wanted a place to be alone with my thoughts and dreams with few chances of interruption. There was no phone, no fax, no internet. What a welcome relief from the world in which I worked where I was constantly tied to a phone and people who needed my services. After the past few months what I really needed was space. Space to sit and simply be. I could feel the tension slipping away - replaced immediately with the excitement of actually seeing this house I had been dreaming of.

The fellow who came with us to inspect the place was already there when we arrived. Frankly short of finding a dead goat in the middle of the livingroom, I was in. Signed, sealed, delivered. The outside definitely needed some work - the paint was peeling, the steps up to the house were rickety - but I was told no one had done too much to this place in years. Still I was charmed.

Inside there was a lingering smell of fabric softener, the source of which were scraps of softener sheets hung about the windows (I later learned it kept away mice!) It was a musty, dusty old house smell. The heat was blasting out of the furnace and I inspected the taps to make sure the water was coming through. Down some very tiny steps to the basement which was damp (I'm told they're all damp in that part of the world) A single hanging lamp showed us the fuse box and the rough hewn floor joists. These were hand sawn and I recognized how sturdy and well built the house was. The foundation wasn't perfect but was in good shape. No big holes or leaks or cracks. Up the stairs we went. (Inside I was jumping for joy!) The living room was filled to the brim with all sorts of ceramic critters and bird hangings and flowerful displays. These all spoke to me and confirned that I was meant to be here. I loved birds - though maybe not quite the ones I found through out. And I loved ceramic things - though maybe not quite this kind and flowers - well I preferred real - but I took all these things as a sign from God. This stirred my creative soul. I looked around at all these rooms and all this stuff and a thousand ideas rolled through my mind. I was already painting and wallpapering and ripping out smelly carpets. I ran from room to room eagerly taking it all in. Every single home decor magazine I had ever looked at came rushing back to me. I felt such a surge of creativity and such a sense of place. This would be my home away from home. This would be my retreat, a place to heal my heart, to sort out my relationship with my mother, my world and myself.

I was already planting flowers in my head as I agreed to sign the final papers. For the price of a mid sized car, the deed was done. I had sent a friend pictures of this place and she dubbed it "The Chateau". And so it is. It is my "Chateau" to do with what I like, indeed.

Let the reno begin!