This is was so lovely, and timely, as today I've been thinking of memories that should have been, that weren't, and aren't, and balancing that sadness with steadfast thankfulness for where I am today. You paint such lovely picture, movies almost, with your words. Thank you.
There is a book -- How Buildings Learn (https://www.goodreads.com/en/book/show/38310) -- that looks at how owners adapt their spaces, and how architects can be artists of time. It has helped take some of the edge off my sadness when I see old buildings transformed into very different structures. Before we assumed occupancy of the house we're in now, we made it our own, not with major exterior changes to open up the main floor. In the farm cottage, we added a loft. I love that you kept the cottage largely as it was, including what it contained, and I love even more the idea of the Roberts passing through and marking their approval. I'm sure you are lovely stewards!
Thank you, Prue, for sharing this week's Chicken Scratch. Speaking of ancestors! 😊 Keep waltzing, friend. Grace is worth pursuing.
To be honest, I really like Kevin Mcleod and I think in context, he was saying exactly what How Buildings Learn might say.
In the case of this cottage, when we renovated, our son (our builder) was asked to strip the place back to its frame and then remodel it so that it looked exactly like the old house. That was what we fell in love with and our son did a beautiful job. Everything new but old. But the same - window seats, windows, doors. I suspect most folk thought we were crazy but then that's us! Crazy...
There is no place like home, Prue. What a beautiful post - it resonates with me deeply, because I feel such strong ties to my own. I count myself very lucky to get to spend time - often! - in the house I first lived in when I was nearly two, because my parents live there still.
Those jigsaw boxes! Absolutely beautiful. Is that Princesses Elizabeth and Margaret pictured in the second jigsaw pic?
Loved every word. And hurrah for your ballet, and not listing to port. YAY!
Yes, Princesses Margaret and Elizabeth. The jigsaws came from my mother's childhood in the old riverside house. I want to lay them out individually and just check to see what pieces are missing. Given the boxes are essentially gone, I suspect some pieces will be as well.
I think its important to cherish good memories because in the end, they are what sustain us in our very old age. I listen to very elderly people and one of their opening gambits with each other is always 'Do you remember when...' It gives them a special sense of place in what becomes an increasingly fragile world. It's certainly what I would like to muse on if I become confined in any way.
The jigsaws look so precious, Prue. I remember Mum painstakingly putting every one of our jigsaws together, turning them over and labelling each piece - every row and every column - with a unique code; so, a couple of letters for the name of the jigsaw, and 1/100, 2/100, 3/100 (piece number 1 of a 100-piece jigsaw) etc etc. That way any stray pieces could quickly be repatriated to the correct box!
(Hmmm, I've just read that paragraph back to myself and hey, now I know where I get some of my traits from......) 🤣
Memories are everything. That's what I love so much about writing on Substack, actually - I love writing about things from my early life, and it's also such a wonderful opportunity to have some fantastic chats with my parents about their own stories.
I'm laughing Rebecca, because as I read what your mum did with jigsaws, I thought - OMG! That's so Rebecca! And lo, you say the same thing!
Memories are all that we have in the end - and it's that little treasure trove in the back of our minds, no matter how dusty, how faded, that will give us comfort. I'm all for making memories and storing them for the future.
Thick with nostalgia…. The yearning for a simpler time, but miraculously you found a home that enabled you to continue that delightful lifestyle. The ghosts of owners past are thrilled, of that I’m certain. Such beautiful words that transported us readers to a very beautiful part of Australia. I loved all the photographs too. Another wonderful post. Thanks so much dear Prue.
Thres so many things that bring special memories some quite small and inexpensive, but knowing the beloned to a loved one no longer with us makes them special, as you remember where they were and who they belong too. or who bought them Other things are easier to let go xxx
It's true, and as I was writing the essay, I remembered that each time we've had to clear a house after the deaths of loved ones, it was a far from laborious job as I would handle things and travel down the memory road. To be honest, I think its a perfect way to journey through grief - good memories in most cases, and the actual process cements the story in one's mind.
I loved learning that you kept the house as it was, and had your son help you make it yours, but the same. It is full of light and warmth and I can see how you would be attracted to it. How delightful that you've kept so much of what was there that drew you to it. We too enjoy quirky, and ended up realising when we were looking for a house this last time that we preferred the houses whose rooms were not set in purpose but could be made to have many different uses, as needed. If every room in a house was clearly defined, then we got immediately bored. But the ones that we pondered, and thought, what if ..., we ended up loving. And so we are in another quirky house with different levels and aspects of light. It has a long history in time, but not many owners, so it feels well loved. 'House as a mirror of self' is a wonderful book about how our houses reflect our psyche.
I'm going to look for that book, Sabrina. It sounds good.
And I love that you are into quirky as well. This cottage of ours is so bizarre. Every single room has a step. I've been on crutches and a wheelie walker at times with injuries and that was fun, I can tell you!
We're only the second owners and that in itself is endearing.
Oh goodness, those stairs are so familiar to me and I am sorry to hear that you have had to navigate them them without both legs working in tandem! We constantly watch our guests until we are sure they have memorised the locations of our trip hazards. But we do love the charm, like you!
I loved reading about your home. I think all homes tell our story. My house tells the story of a fortunate life of comfort and safety, untouched by hardship or much worry. That’s the part that takes my breath away. My parents came to Canada as displaced people--refugees--after WWII with nothing. I am the daughter of immigrants who accomplished everything they set out to do as they rebuilt their lives here. They wanted their children to be well-educated. They wanted them to have opportunities. They wanted them to have successful and fulfilling careers. They wanted them to have families of their own. They wanted them under no circumstances to know hunger and cold. They wanted them to feel safe and rooted in a peaceful country. They did not want their children to carry forward or even know about the trauma and terror they had survived at the hands of the Nazis. So when I walk through the rooms of my house, and I see the the things they passed down to me, I am very aware of their stories.
We have so many little things cherished and put away that 'tell' our heritage.
In the end, in places like Australia, New Zealand, Canada and the USA, we're all descendants of migrants in one way or another and in that alone there are a multitude of stories within walls. Thank you for commenting.
So much to love about this one, Prue! I am obsessed with Cornishware myself, it's so heartbreakingly reminiscent of home - and we never even HAD it at home but still, it makes me swoon when I see it just like willow pattern! Your cottage is completely charming, "shell-grit from Mr. and Mrs. Roberts’ old chook yard" and I know they must be so happy that you are the new caretakers. (Is that The Terrier I spy in the foreground, bless his wee paws!) Your photos are amazing - all these little details, they add up to something so magical. (P.S. We also love Kevin and Grand Design too!) You are so lucky - and I know you know x
And yes, I DO know how lucky we are and I think it's that which makes me feel content. It's not a 'sit back smugly in the armchair contentment', but just the reverse of what most of 21st century society is - that need to have, to ACHIEVE, to keep up and beat the Joneses of the world.
This is was so lovely, and timely, as today I've been thinking of memories that should have been, that weren't, and aren't, and balancing that sadness with steadfast thankfulness for where I am today. You paint such lovely picture, movies almost, with your words. Thank you.
Thank you, Mary.
It's our homes that cradle so many memories. There are some things that just can't be parted with.
I wonder what the pieces to evoke such memories will be in a 100 yrs from now?
I'll waft through in my best ghostly way and have a look-see...
Gosh I hope that is a reality for all of us….although I’m not sure I want my parents to see me now.
XXXX
So lovely and true. The home is reflective of our personalities. I hope mine represents me and hubby.
I'm sure it does.
There is a book -- How Buildings Learn (https://www.goodreads.com/en/book/show/38310) -- that looks at how owners adapt their spaces, and how architects can be artists of time. It has helped take some of the edge off my sadness when I see old buildings transformed into very different structures. Before we assumed occupancy of the house we're in now, we made it our own, not with major exterior changes to open up the main floor. In the farm cottage, we added a loft. I love that you kept the cottage largely as it was, including what it contained, and I love even more the idea of the Roberts passing through and marking their approval. I'm sure you are lovely stewards!
Thank you, Prue, for sharing this week's Chicken Scratch. Speaking of ancestors! 😊 Keep waltzing, friend. Grace is worth pursuing.
To be honest, I really like Kevin Mcleod and I think in context, he was saying exactly what How Buildings Learn might say.
In the case of this cottage, when we renovated, our son (our builder) was asked to strip the place back to its frame and then remodel it so that it looked exactly like the old house. That was what we fell in love with and our son did a beautiful job. Everything new but old. But the same - window seats, windows, doors. I suspect most folk thought we were crazy but then that's us! Crazy...
I love that story, Prue. And I love that you loved the cottage enough to want it to be just the same. That's a true match!
There is no place like home, Prue. What a beautiful post - it resonates with me deeply, because I feel such strong ties to my own. I count myself very lucky to get to spend time - often! - in the house I first lived in when I was nearly two, because my parents live there still.
Those jigsaw boxes! Absolutely beautiful. Is that Princesses Elizabeth and Margaret pictured in the second jigsaw pic?
Loved every word. And hurrah for your ballet, and not listing to port. YAY!
Yes, Princesses Margaret and Elizabeth. The jigsaws came from my mother's childhood in the old riverside house. I want to lay them out individually and just check to see what pieces are missing. Given the boxes are essentially gone, I suspect some pieces will be as well.
I think its important to cherish good memories because in the end, they are what sustain us in our very old age. I listen to very elderly people and one of their opening gambits with each other is always 'Do you remember when...' It gives them a special sense of place in what becomes an increasingly fragile world. It's certainly what I would like to muse on if I become confined in any way.
The jigsaws look so precious, Prue. I remember Mum painstakingly putting every one of our jigsaws together, turning them over and labelling each piece - every row and every column - with a unique code; so, a couple of letters for the name of the jigsaw, and 1/100, 2/100, 3/100 (piece number 1 of a 100-piece jigsaw) etc etc. That way any stray pieces could quickly be repatriated to the correct box!
(Hmmm, I've just read that paragraph back to myself and hey, now I know where I get some of my traits from......) 🤣
Memories are everything. That's what I love so much about writing on Substack, actually - I love writing about things from my early life, and it's also such a wonderful opportunity to have some fantastic chats with my parents about their own stories.
I'm laughing Rebecca, because as I read what your mum did with jigsaws, I thought - OMG! That's so Rebecca! And lo, you say the same thing!
Memories are all that we have in the end - and it's that little treasure trove in the back of our minds, no matter how dusty, how faded, that will give us comfort. I'm all for making memories and storing them for the future.
You've made ME laugh now, Prue!!!!! 🤣 You're so right! 😁
Thick with nostalgia…. The yearning for a simpler time, but miraculously you found a home that enabled you to continue that delightful lifestyle. The ghosts of owners past are thrilled, of that I’m certain. Such beautiful words that transported us readers to a very beautiful part of Australia. I loved all the photographs too. Another wonderful post. Thanks so much dear Prue.
Thank you, Beth for your comments and support.
Thres so many things that bring special memories some quite small and inexpensive, but knowing the beloned to a loved one no longer with us makes them special, as you remember where they were and who they belong too. or who bought them Other things are easier to let go xxx
It's true, and as I was writing the essay, I remembered that each time we've had to clear a house after the deaths of loved ones, it was a far from laborious job as I would handle things and travel down the memory road. To be honest, I think its a perfect way to journey through grief - good memories in most cases, and the actual process cements the story in one's mind.
Thus begins the autobiography...
I loved learning that you kept the house as it was, and had your son help you make it yours, but the same. It is full of light and warmth and I can see how you would be attracted to it. How delightful that you've kept so much of what was there that drew you to it. We too enjoy quirky, and ended up realising when we were looking for a house this last time that we preferred the houses whose rooms were not set in purpose but could be made to have many different uses, as needed. If every room in a house was clearly defined, then we got immediately bored. But the ones that we pondered, and thought, what if ..., we ended up loving. And so we are in another quirky house with different levels and aspects of light. It has a long history in time, but not many owners, so it feels well loved. 'House as a mirror of self' is a wonderful book about how our houses reflect our psyche.
I'm going to look for that book, Sabrina. It sounds good.
And I love that you are into quirky as well. This cottage of ours is so bizarre. Every single room has a step. I've been on crutches and a wheelie walker at times with injuries and that was fun, I can tell you!
We're only the second owners and that in itself is endearing.
Oh goodness, those stairs are so familiar to me and I am sorry to hear that you have had to navigate them them without both legs working in tandem! We constantly watch our guests until we are sure they have memorised the locations of our trip hazards. But we do love the charm, like you!
We ended up having to put a shining metal strip along the sunroom step because quite a number of folk have catapulted into the galley-kitchen!
I loved reading about your home. I think all homes tell our story. My house tells the story of a fortunate life of comfort and safety, untouched by hardship or much worry. That’s the part that takes my breath away. My parents came to Canada as displaced people--refugees--after WWII with nothing. I am the daughter of immigrants who accomplished everything they set out to do as they rebuilt their lives here. They wanted their children to be well-educated. They wanted them to have opportunities. They wanted them to have successful and fulfilling careers. They wanted them to have families of their own. They wanted them under no circumstances to know hunger and cold. They wanted them to feel safe and rooted in a peaceful country. They did not want their children to carry forward or even know about the trauma and terror they had survived at the hands of the Nazis. So when I walk through the rooms of my house, and I see the the things they passed down to me, I am very aware of their stories.
Exactly so, Alice.
We have so many little things cherished and put away that 'tell' our heritage.
In the end, in places like Australia, New Zealand, Canada and the USA, we're all descendants of migrants in one way or another and in that alone there are a multitude of stories within walls. Thank you for commenting.
So much to love about this one, Prue! I am obsessed with Cornishware myself, it's so heartbreakingly reminiscent of home - and we never even HAD it at home but still, it makes me swoon when I see it just like willow pattern! Your cottage is completely charming, "shell-grit from Mr. and Mrs. Roberts’ old chook yard" and I know they must be so happy that you are the new caretakers. (Is that The Terrier I spy in the foreground, bless his wee paws!) Your photos are amazing - all these little details, they add up to something so magical. (P.S. We also love Kevin and Grand Design too!) You are so lucky - and I know you know x
Sue, I think you might be my soul's doppelganger!
And yes, I DO know how lucky we are and I think it's that which makes me feel content. It's not a 'sit back smugly in the armchair contentment', but just the reverse of what most of 21st century society is - that need to have, to ACHIEVE, to keep up and beat the Joneses of the world.