The days of deconstruction are now behind us. All the bits that were broken open are now being closed back up.
After hearing and reading many tales of woe regarding old house renovations, I consider us lucky that a lack of insulation was the worst card we were dealt.
We found layers of linoleum flooring, floral wallpaper and paint colours typical to an era known for avocado green fridges and fuchsia bathroom fixtures.
Delving into deeper layers, we found original floorboards and lath filled walls. Speaking to an era of time that I have much more appreciation of. Sadly, the floors had to remain covered and the lath was removed in our effort to make this house more our own. The knowledge that the original floors live beneath provides me with a stronger connection to our old homestead house. And that is enough.
Straying from popular opinion, the unequivocal heart of our home is the hearth and it's wood stove. The tradition and ritual surrounding the use of wood as heat necessitates a place of honour to my way of thinking. Sitting atop cracked and still cracking tiles was neither honourable nor safe.
All should be wrapped up by the weekend - leaving me to paint and put furniture back.
Just in time for the scales to tip over to more time spent outside than in. Or here's hoping anyway.