Last night we staged the Tiny House then sat down for a few hours and dreamed about not having a project going on around our property for a while.
The inside is mostly set, we’ll hang a shelf and retrofit a few smaller pieces of furniture for some added storage and a mini-fridge (and a hot pot! Who wants tea?). But that will all happen in time. The way we do.
I haven’t looked at the bottom line of this project, it’s better if we all just pretend there was monopoly money at play here. If there ever was a budget, in my head it was – oh, we could do this DIY for like $1,500 for sure.
I promise you my optimism is just that cute. It took 2.5 years from start to finish. Because “Start” was the moment I saw it, our first showing of the home in Feb 2012. The house was livable. We knew we’d be renovating in the next 5 years and renting had prepared us for just living in a house the way it was. But I saw this:
And I fell in love right there. Here she is with the door open:
And I just knew, I could see this:
I spent a lot of time photographing the shed as it was, it felt like poetry to me with all the overgrowth. Prickly vines and chicken wire. It smelt awful but there was something in the air (possibility, hope) – I was so frustrated, like a bull in the pin waiting for the door to open. I just wanted to uncover her.
We finally did … here our lovely little lady is:
I brought the kids to school this morning and couldn’t get home fast enough. I’m writing from inside the studio this morning! Watching the cotton candy sunrise, listening to piano music on pandora, and sipping my coffee.
My favorite part?
I found a home. Or maybe she found me.
During various stages of the renovation on this Pigeon Loft I’ve hosted girls’ nights, Aaron and I had dates out here after the kids were tucked in. I even hosted a Holiday Open House in the studio.
On my 30th birthday I sat in the naked studio – it had a raised roof, no windows, just studded walls … I walked out here in the rain, no socks on, in my winter boots, in my robe. I dragged a chair and a glass of wine and I sat with my feet perched on the window sill over looking the pea gravel patio and our woods. (Another post about the tinyhouse/studio and the pea gravel patio) I wrote things in my journal, I wrote a letter to my grandpa for his birthday, I cried through the memories that got me here. I remember feeling hope, and brand new.
And that’s what it’s felt like ever since. I wasn’t kidding when I invited you here. I see this space being my office (yes.) but also as a collaborative space. For meetings, for pop up shops, for photo sessions. I see small companies hosting meetings here while we cater their brunch or meet their coffee expectations. When the weather is nice, I see this space flowing easily outside and hosting many parties.
I see sleep-overs in our future. I see a space for someone to come, solo, who maybe just needs to sit quietly. Who needs to be alone, who needs some healing. I see friendships building, families making memories, teams restoring trust or growing abilities. I see possibility here.
I see a ballet dancer free to dance, I see a mother free to hear her thoughts, I see the broken falling down and picking up pieces one by one, I see so much joy here. I see safety.
I don’t exactly know what that looks like logistically, but we’ll figure that out together. I do have a calendar made up with appointments already on it dedicated to this space. You’re welcome here.
We all are.