Although it seems my husband and I have just finished renovations to our 140 year old home, we are once again tackling the master bedroom. About three years ago our oldest son, then 23 moved out and bought his first house and decided to take his 18 year old brother with him. We were excited for him, and his first stab at independence, and his brother, whom we were sure would be moving back home within six months if not sooner. We were also excited for ourselves because we, as husband and wife, have never had a day that we weren't parents-we have never been alone- ever. We had plans for what we could do with these two rooms- perhaps an office? A sewing room? A den? A spare bedroom? No, no, nothing with a bed, we don't want the kids to see there's still a room for them to sleep in if they decided to come back. In the past three years, these two rather small rooms have been all of these things and yet, we haven't really given them the use we thought we would. Our house is less than 1,000 square feet and raising two active and noisy boys wasn't easy  in such a small house and we dreamed of the day when we could spread out, and have a little peace, quiet and alone time ourselves. As much as I enjoyed being an empty nester, I had to admit the long dreamed of space was just going to waste.
     A week ago, I came home from work to find that my husband had taken down the gyproc from the dividing wall of the middle room. The next day, when I came home he had removed the gyproc from the dividing wall from our room and that Monday night we slept in a room that seemed like a cavern to us-for the first time in 24 years of marriage, we had room, and it seemed strange. I must have woken up two or three times that night wondering where I was. The light from the street was different, the noises in the night sounded different in a room that was twice its previous size. In the morning, we had sun coming through the window and the room was bright- we had four posts at the foot of our bed and two sockets hanging from the ceiling but the room looked beautiful to me. It was a few days later that the carpet and sub flooring were removed to reveal the wide plank flooring we had covered up with plywood some  seven or eight years before. The colour was a deep caramel and once they were swept and washed with Murphy's Oil Soap I plopped a semi anti carpet over them and the room became warm and inviting again. We carried in the butternut bonnet chest I had recently bought and this became my favorite room in the house- and all this time I had thought our living room was my favourite. Yes, we have decreased our three bedroom home to a two bedroom home, but we are the ones who have to live here so it's only fitting we live in a house that services our needs as a home. As far as our children returning home and finding there isn't enough room? Well it's been three years, the oldest is engaged to be married in six months and the youngest, now turning 23 wouldn't  hear of it so I think we are safe.

 The Collecting Bug.




   I love antiques.  I bought my first antique at the age of 17 in the form of a beat up green milk can from a dairy in Fergus and I paid all of $5 for it. That milk can followed me through a number of moves and colour schemes and finally gave up the ghost fifteen years later when the bottom rotted through and I had to junk it. And although my idea of what an antique was has changed during that time, I  still love to hunt and search, and bring home a prize. I have a small collection of flow blue, small is right as I have exactly seven pieces. Some are perfect, like the pitcher from a chamber set I got for Christmas a few years ago, while others are a little worse for wear. Two plates from the 1840s sit on my mantle and have a tiny ding or two on the backside-no matter as it doesn't take away from that hit of indigo it makes in the room.  My favorite two pieces are the large chamber jug and a little creamer I bought for $5 which is really a wreck. It's glaze is crazed, the  once white inside is nearly brown and there are flakes gone from the underside, but it's marking is clear and sitting on the bottom shelf of a tiger oak table, you can't tell it's not perfect-the reason I like it is that it is the exact miniature of a milk pitcher I have but for the decal design. Proof that an antique doesn't have to be perfect nor expensive for you to like it.
  In fact, I like that indigo colour so much I went to my favourite quilting place in Waterford, The Quilt Junction, and bought a few meters of a Civil War reproduction fabric in indigo and paired it with two meters of an unbleached muslin to make an Ohio star quilt. The past two nights have had me up until 3am  putting together the final blocks in a quilt using reproduction fabrics from the 1930s. Same pattern, different era. My spare moments are full, and satisfying and I can't think of a better way to spend them. Hope yours are too. SDW

I'm at home in the country

     I live in a small country village, where the streets are lined with large, mature maple trees, century homes, and farms with horses and dairy cattle.  I am within walking distance to a specialty store that makes its own bread, pies and cakes, serves spectacular breakfasts and lunches, deli meats and cheeses. Not much further is a  five star country bistro which caters and serves Italian cuisine with a California flair. They do a goat cheese stuffed chicken breast with a cranberry- jalapeno jelly that is to die for.   The Honourable A. S. Hardy was born at this location in 1837 and the owner's great grandfather, who settled in the village in 1884, bought the store from the Hardy family.