What is going on? The unseasonably warm damp weather we are having means that the grass is still growing. And growing. So we’ve been mowing. And mowing, in what feels like a Sisyphean task. We need to do the front lawn again, having just done it in the break from the rain only last week. Argh. I have plans to get rid of the grass as soon as may be and plant a pollinator paradise. But of course, as with everything else, this is taking much more time than I had anticipated. I’m not complaining. No, really. Well, I am a bit. Mostly because I’ve been suffering from migraines as a result of all the grass cutting. I shall not bore you with lamentations about wonky shoulders and uneven ground. The delay in getting going is important, I tell myself, as it is giving me time to discover more about this place we now call home, this year’s weather being almost the complete opposite of last year. And the garden completely different. There being ample water this summer, plants appeared we had no idea were there and we discovered how much work is involved just in basic maintenance. Delays have also afforded me the time to buy more books about gardening, my latest purchase being TJ Maher’s Grounded in the Garden. TJ is a painter and a gardener. His garden is in west Wicklow in Ireland. To say he paints with plants is not an exaggeration. A man after my own heart, he loves all the colours. Even yellow.

 

“The purest and most thoughtful minds are those which love colour the most.”

– John Ruskin, The Stones of Venice

 

Here it is… ta da. The design for the wardrobe door.

Of course, the particular green of the grass in Ireland creates a glorious foil for TJ’s colourful planting. I have no idea whether the effect would be the same here but I shall certainly give it a go. The idea being to ground the disparate buildings further in the landscape and also to create a haven, more than for just ourselves. This is the reason we chose Un Jardin et Trois Maisons as the name of our little bit of paradise. I have no idea yet what we might do with the tumble-down buildings with their leaky roofs but I am hopeful that the garden will be a source of inspiration. Hmmm, plans. Yes, definitely very vague. But I think the garden is as good a place as any to start. The buildings will follow, their function changing as the garden evolves. I suspect this will be a 20-year project. At the very least.

 

Much like the house. The bedrooms are way down the todo list. They are, of course, painted grey but the tones are not so dreary as downstairs. Besides, when I am there, my eyes are mostly closed. So, liveable with. Then, the mirror slipped. The door refused to open. Something had to be done. We thought it the work of a moment. You know, take down the door, unscrew the frame, push the mirror back up, rescrew the frame, rehang the door on the wardrobe. Ha! It turns out the frame is not strong enough to support the mirror, so it had been held in place by what looked to me like a couple of, albeit wide, strips of double-sided sticky tape. The tape lost its stick; the mirror slipped. Not so reassuring. The mirror is big and really quite heavy. Himself even conceded so. The mirror is now behind a sofa in the hall. The wardrobe door is ugly white MDF. Something has got to be done. It was more than the work of the moment. I spent a lovely afternoon designing a mural (wallpaper?) for the door using the tester pots of paint I’ve been collecting.  I plan to paint the design onto some spare lining paper and hang it using, yes, you guessed it, double-sided sticky tape.

 

The painting of the kitchen continues, I won’t say apace. But it continues. The grey has now been covered completely in undercoat. Already the gloom has lifted. Just in time for the long, dark winter evenings. We hope to finish by Christmas, but you know… So here it is, my favourite project/restoration of the moment, a wonderfully cheerful, colourful and completed house in Melbourne by YSG Studio. Do have a look at their other projects too. Lots to admire and inspire.

 

Yes, this house is certainly teaching me patience. And other virtues too. I suspect by the end, I may well become insufferably mellow.

 

A bientôt

 

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