I have a thing about underground buildings and rooms.
Our (very) small backyard is on a hill, sloping down 30′ to the house. Something occurred to me today when I saw the below photo.
“Well, that looks like it could be in our backyard. It sure would be easy to pay someone to dig out the space. Then, I’d be very comfortable laying the masonry myself.”
O
(Yes, this is exactly the type of thing I get myself into.)
These underground root cellars (and garages) built into hills are ubiquitous here in the Hudson Valley. No worries, though. I have forsworn longterm unnecessary house projects.
It seems like the sort of thing that could be done in less than a week, but we know how I am … it would take two years to decide, a year to plan, another year to actually start, and six months to finish.
I don’t need to pass into my retirement-age years with a half finished root cellar.
Every so often during this (very slow) kitchen renovation, I run across something that (to me) seems very common; then I realize upon then trying to purchase it, it’s not.
Evidently these iron-and-slats kitchen drying racks on pulleys are one of those things. They’re easily bought in Great Britain, but not so much here. I guess we prefer the standing XWing kind.
Ninety bucks. Forty of that was shipping from the UK and having to import the wooden rails as well because the standard sizes of lumber are not the same in both countries.
Ah, well. I’m happy I found one.
(not my photo)
O
All this aside, I don’t feel quite well today, and it’s a bit chilly. It’s not even cold yet, and the notification emails I receive alerting me to homes for sale in Saint Augustine are already tempting — even if the house is really not that great, needs some work, and is way too small.
The thing that may not even have a specific name. In this case, I’m referring to a “wall-mounted early-1800s plate rack.” I read quite a bit about them, but never figured out exactly what it’s supposed to be called. They seemed to start disappearing with the Victorians. As far as the late-Colonial folks go, they probably didn’t need a name for it, knowing it more as “where my plates go.”
A salvaged rack from a vintage kitchen
O
These hung on the wall over the sink. After washing, you put your clean plates directly into it so they could drip dry.
When kitchens started to become something to look at as well as work in, we decided that you shouldn’t be able to see all of our plates and stuff. Cabinets, drawers, and counters took the place of racks, shelves, and tables. Pots were no longer hung from the ceiling, crockery was put out of sight, and all of our kitchen stuff disappeared into hidden spaces.
You don’t see them very much anymore, other than non-functional versions in custom kitchens to display fancy plates. This is where the Historian’s Tax comes in.
No, you can’t walk into a store and buy one, but there are craftspeople out there who would be happy to make you one … for $400+. That’s for pine — not even oak or another decent hardwood. And some of the examples I’ve seen from craftspeople don’t have an open bottom; which defeats the purpose entirely. For far less than half, I can get some really nice cabinet-grade wood, and build my own.
I can make it the perfect size for the space we have. One of the most important DIY things I’ve learned is that there’s no sense in having some thing that’s almost correct. I designed my own with a bit of detail/trim — just a leeeeetle bit over the top. Out of period, yes, but a little gingerbread never hurt anybody.
My design
O
I do love the continuum — Just over 180 years ago a half block off Main Street, standing here on the same spot on the very same floor next to the old chimney, someone stood over a basin. Tucking away their plates into whatever this thing is called. Maybe they even built it themselves.
The useless window is now gone, and the refrigerator is moved where the window used to be.
It got no sun (at all) and it was on the skinny-alley side — 3 1/2 feet from the neighbor’s three-story house. (No wonder it got no sun.)
O
Pantry (pan-tree) — A closet for your food. Carson on Downton Abbey has a great big fancy pantry that has glass cabinet doors. Other people have pantries that are a 2×4 + drywall boxes that they hurriedly stick the drying rack full of underwear in when you ring the doorbell.
O
Jonathan put together two of the three shelf units for me, so I plunked them where they’ll eventually be permanently.
This is that corner of our kitchen all messed up and pulled apart. The pantry will continue down from the big weird box over the shelves. The big weird box is where the fire used to connect to the chimney. (I didn’t do it. Long story.)
I’m currently mulling November vacation ideas in my head. I’m on #2 — Florida. I concentrated for a few days on a train trip to Washington DC. It didn’t stick. Having to go into Manhattan to catch the train when I can get on a plane to Florida (where it’s warmer) right here in Westchester. Plus, I’m not really interested in Washington DC to begin with. We’ll see where it lands.
I’ve tried to wrap my mind around beginner crochet many times.
I’ve tried it so many times, I have a drawer full of untouched yarn. Yesterday I opened the drawer and caught sight of some nice chunky 100% wool that I really like, so I thought it might be time to give it another go.
I feel a bit silly about not taking to it. Seems a bit doltish that someone who can sew a period gown from scratch can’t crochet a pot holder, but there it is.
I spoke to my good friend (and craft genius) Miss G this morning. She’s going to bring me a few simple patterns … and provide plenty of advice. Jonathan picked me up a couple of new hooks today while he was at the store. =)
Sit Still Phill 