Painting the interior of the house is always a challenge for me. The wall surface is a semi-rough texture with no molding outlining the ceiling. What’s even more laborious is the ceiling is a 20 ft. high cathedral style. Once I climb the ladder I must negotiate large wooden beams. There are times I need to twist around, hold the pose while balancing and maintaining a steady hand for the edging. I guess it’s a small price to pay, since painting is the least costly of decorating. However, how does one mask a mistake should a blob of color finds its way onto the ceiling? (No, I’m not going to paint the ceiling, and that’s that.) I wish I could get away with plastering a sticker over it. I think the old world masters had the right idea, when they created the technique of trompe l’oeil, which means trick the eye. This art has been around for donkey years. It’d look great in my house, plus it’d be a handy method for masking. If it’s good enough for the majestic old manses and churches, it’s good enough for me. Now, all I need to do is find a trompe l’oeil artist within my painting budget.
There are some that equate country living to lazing about with a blade of straw sticking out of one’s mouth. If one doesn’t drive miles away to an office job, one has “too much time on one’s hands”. I haven’t found that to be the case. There are always projects that we need to prioritize. Granted town people have the same things to do, but in the rural area, we usually have to juggle time with livestock of some sort. Animals always have priority. My errands to town, my house stuff, my favorite indoor hobbies all revolve around the care of our horses and the weather, I should add. Just this morning while doing barn chores, I’m thinking about a skein of hand painted yarn that has been sitting in my stash for some time. But, the responsible thing to do, when I finish mucking out, is to work on the interior painting. My incentive is a good one. It’s the time to enjoy riding and to create something out of that skein of yarn. That’s my hiatus; I wouldn’t trade this for a trip to Disneyland. Wild horses couldn’t drag me back to town.
old wood best to burn, old wine to drink, old friends to trust, and old authors to read.
I can expound on this. My husband once gave me a birthday card that read, “I like old people, don’t you?” Therefore, I’m qualified on this subject.
Anyone who has a wood burning fireplace or stove can attest to the fact that old wood is best. As far as the wine, I straddle the fence on that one, because I’ve choked down a few old bottles, turned vinegar, in my days (mostly youth). Old friends can be trusted, which, in part, could be due to waning memories or just don’t give a rat’s butt? That’s something to ponder. Old authors are good. Now, I need to add a fifth thing where age appears to be best, animals, such as equine, canine, and feline. Some might say that a leopard never changes its spots; however, I do believe with age, as with humans, animals develop a trusted pattern that becomes old hat, so to speak. Living in the rural area, I’m around my old steeds every single day. I know their reactions to stimulus (much like knowing one’s spouse’s buttons to push). I’m in tune with their emotions, and I know they’re in tune with mine. Our old pets offer a quiet happiness. Could this be what the term, creature comforts, means? My old cat sleeps a lot, so I don’t have to anticipate kitten-like ambushes any more. That’s comforting. My dog, who’ll be on senior food in a year, offers steady companionship. She may look as though she’s sleeping in the bay window, but I know she’s on guard. She’ll occasionally lift her head as if to say, “Trust me.”
Yes, age is good, I tell you.