We live on a sliver of land; Cape Cod Bay lies a mile to the east, and sandy cliffs drop down almost 50 feet to the Atlantic, 2 miles to the west. Salt is in the air all around this place. Yet for some reason, it's been a struggle for us to relax. Coming from the city (so loud, so crowded, so rushed), it's been an adjustment to get used to the pace of life. Not to mention, the work on the house has us sore and calloused, with spatters of paint on our hands that just won't go away.
So we took a break and headed to the bay, breathing that salty air into our lungs, watching the tide bubble in; even the birds here are relaxed.
Today, the gulls are our inspiration.
We're almost ready to begin set up in the studio (finally). Please stay tuned for less house and more new goods to come.
March, 2014: the air was still damp and cold, Thomas began work in Wellfleet, and the lichen covered everything in that part of the world. We barely saw one another. We lived parallel lives via texts; I sent photos of the cat to keep him company until he'd come home...only to pack up and leave on Sunday nights. He slept on couches, on the floor at the jobsite; he has lived out of a bag far too long. Neither of us enjoyed looking at one lonely toothbrush each morning.
Now, six months later, we're tying up our city lives, preparing to move into the house we bought, preparing to begin our new lives on the skinny, sandy piece of land known as the outer Cape. What brought us to this point? Luck, the push and pull of new moons and full moons, fate.
This has been a bizarre journey, but we are almost home.
Last night, I read through the all the deeds for the land our house was built on. Starting in 1888 and ending in 2000, it was surreal to think about the first settlers of Nauset who left the safety of Plymouth Plantation, to set up a life on the unknown, narrow land of Cape Cod - Snow, Prince, Doane, Cook, Higgins, Smalley, Bangs - their ancestors once farmed the land our little house stands on.
I know each house we live in, each step we take over the blades of grass on our lawns has been done before. We're not the first to be here. Holding this handwritten paper with its beautifully scrolling penmanship somehow made the connection between our house and the seven pioneers of Eastham a real thing. Our deed will be added to this collection of paperwork, declaring our ownership of a piece of land, a piece of Massachusetts history.
It blew my mind.
Anyway, onto the renovation progress:
Our new roof has been installed! Thanks to Ed Callahan, we now have a weathertight roof over our heads, AND a nice neighbor to call upon.
Our Rose of Sharon is in full bloom - perfectly timed with the death of our minnehaha roses.
Our priming and painting continues, much to the screams of our neck and shoulders. A finish coat has finally been applied to the living room walls, with the trim and doors up next. The red brick of the fireplace will be painted a deep steel grey and our woodstove will finally have a home.
Our kitchen floor is also done and looks like the ocean on a grey day. We chose a commercial grade vinyl tile - mostly because of the color - but we chose the installer because of the beautiful job he did with the floors of the Weidlinger house.
This has been (and I'm sure will continue to be) a daunting, exciting, insane project. We're exhausted both physically and mentally, but we are totally, 100% in love with our little house.
Thanks for reading and staying tuned to our story. We hope to get back to working in the shop later this fall, once the air has that crisp edge to it, and the color of the sea changes from the bright blue of summer to the deep grey of the looming winter to come.