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| A view of the side garden |
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| The addition |
When we bought Brambly it was a tiny, virtually characterless speck house. My husband and I wouldn't have stayed too long if the house hadn't been built on such a breathtakingly beautiful piece of land. It was situated on the edge of a small village. The back of the house was twenty feet away from a wide creek and an expanse of heavily wooded, uninhabited land. The woods were densely packed with crack willows that were warped into the most whimsical shapes from the pressure placed on them by countless blackberry bushes. Seven years and two children later our tiny house was bursting at its seams, so we decided we either had to relocate, or renovate. We decided to stay. Since then we have built additions, knocked out walls, carved out niches, replaced every window, painted, papered, covered up every bit of bumpy texture, had endless amounts of woodwork installed, etc.. Of course, that was just the beginning; we then had to find the right furniture, area rugs, fabrics, and accessories. I spent countless hours hunched over my sewing machine creating double-wide, lined, and embellished draperies for every room. Next, I focused on duvets, shams, slipcovers, and pillows. My poor husband became a permanent fixture in the garden as he took on the daunting task of taming the wilderness and turning it into an enchanted English style garden. It seemed he was endlessly planting boxwood and roses. He formed his own ornately designed cement pedestals for his prized urns-they're now sentinels in his meticulously manicured, boxwood bordered perennial gardens.Although the work has been costly, and at times almost unbearably frustrating, it has also been extremely satisfying.