The house is full of our things and too much of it is still on the floor.  Rather than continue my usual routine today, I decided to hang some pictures. As with other things, I have been moving the pictures around the house and setting them on the floor in different places. Next day, I might rearrange a few.

This morning I took one to the sewing room to find a suitable hanging spot. The lamp on the nightstand had dropped its shade.  It was shockingly immodest, like a person dropping their pants and flashing a crowd.

I suppose you can’t expect a lampshade to sit around for seventeen years and maintain its grip. I might try to find some white cloth tape to repair it since the shade looks fine otherwise. Or, I might just buy a replacement.

The first picture I chose to put on a wall was a painting given to us as a wedding present. It was painted by my Sister/Friend Susan’s mother, Eleanor Wachtel. It took me a long time to decide where to put it.  I love the painting and want it to be visible, but there is not much wall space in my parlor. The one wall space facing the door to the room is too big.  The one space across the room from the loveseat in too much in the corner.  I ended up putting the painting on the wall beside the door. I call the painting Eleanor and it was so nice to see her again. She has been gone now for a number of years and we still think of her.  Andy likes to quote her saying, “I’m a cement person” referring to being a New Yorker and not someone accustomed to being in the woods.

Eleanor went to Massachusetts every summer to paint and this is a street scene in Cape Anne.

One of my favorite pieces is one I call “Granddaddy” because he reminds me so much of my Granddaddy Quince Dail. Granddaddy was a farmer and wore overalls. The cow in the background doesn’t fit though; my Granddaddy raised hogs. I wanted to put him where I could see him the most and found the perfect spot next to the sliding glass door to the back.  I could see him from the kitchen sink and “my chair” in the family room.

Sadly, the spot was not so perfect after all.  There was too much glare from the front window and door no matter where I stood to look at him.  So I moved him to the wall between the kitchen and the hall.  No glare or reflections there.

I realized later that I walk by that spot a hundred times a day and get a close, unglared look.

I chose a small spot between doors for my Haida Salmon I bought in Vancouver, British Columbia.  We were living on the boat at the time and Andy asked, “What are you going to do with it?”  My plaintive reply (that he still likes to quote) was, “Someday I’ll have a wall”. Now my someday has come and my fish is on my wall.

Oh to be rich enough to buy more of the First Nations’ art I saw in Alaska and Canada! I find this style fascinating. It is full of symbolism.

I hung a few more, but it got too dark to photograph them today.

My sister Barbara asked me to take some pictures outside the house so she could see and understand the setting better.  This is looking straight out from the front door.

I walked all the way across the street to the far curb to take this picture of our house. We don’t have neighbors on either side yet.

Next, I stood in the middle of the street and took a picture to the right from the house. The house on the far right is two lots over from us.  The one in the distance is the same model as ours.

Then I turned around and took this picture looking left from the house.  There is a pretty wide expanse of empty lots on both sides of the street. The Port-a-Potty is a sign that something will be happening on that lot soon.

They had put four stakes in the ground last week.  Yesterday, they pushed the dirt around.  This morning, they delivered the wood they use to make the forms for pouring concrete. Here is another look.

It won’t be long before houses line the streets one after the other.