Fading Flowers and Peeling Paint -- It's Friday

July 1, and in the USA it's the beginning
of the Fourth of July weekend.
But up north on this continent, our neighbors are celebrating.

Happy Canada Day to the many wonderful Canadian

bloggers I have met through That Old House!

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Howard and I planned to spend this 3-day weekend out at the beach house on Long Island.

Wouldn't that be lovely?

I want to sit right here, in front of the house, with a cup of morning coffee.

But reality has raised its plug-ugly head.

On July 18th, men with jackhammers are coming to do unspeakable things to the cellar at That Old House and install French drains so that our boiler room and other cellar nooks will not become water features during heavy rains anymore.

Not a glamorous renovation, but needs must and all that.

In order for the jackhammer boys to violate our cellar, Howard and I have to clear out most of the stuff that has accumulated down there over the past 3 years.  I'd show you a picture, but I do not want to be held responsible for your analysts' bills.

Did you ever see one of those Hoarders shows on television?  

Yeah.  We are not getting out to Southold this weekend, that's for sure.

Sigh.

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So, I am playing in and around the house this Friday.

At least until I go to my friend Betsy's for lunch and to see her brand new kitchen.

In the Parlor, I've moved the two funky buffet table arrangements from last weekend's wedding

to the fireplace mantel.  I trimmed off the browning Stock; it was not a good look.

In the middle, the cake topper.  A wooden silhouette, an Etsy buy, chosen and painted by The Bride.

When do you stop referring to The Bride as The Bride?

The Gerbera Daisies are holding up well, sturdy little troupers that they are.

The tall goofy Allium is doing its best to shed purple bits everywhere.  Thank you, Mr. Allium.

Tomorrow I've promised myself and my house that I will finally toss the wedding flowers.

No matter how hard it is to say goodbye to them!

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Hallelujah!

We can once again walk on our porch.

The gray deck paint finally dried; oil paint takes awhile to cure when it's 100% humidity in the air, as it was the few days before the wedding, when the porch was newly done.

Our porch furniture has been patiently waiting its turn, sitting in the front shrub bed.

Yes, we are the only house on the street with its porch furniture not on the porch.

But all the pieces need to be painted so they are staying where they are..

I hope that while we are hauling stuff up out of the cellar, Howard and I can still get these

old lovelies painted dark green this weekend, and back on the porch quickly.

If you have a flag, this is the weekend to fly it!

Oh, I should never say quickly, should I?  That's just asking for trouble.

Whatever you are celebrating or slaving over this weekend, I wish you good company, good food,

good vibrations . . . and safety.  Happy Fourth of July!  Let Old Glory wave!  -- Cass

OH!  I almost forgot the obligatory wedding picture of the day.

Everybody loves CAKE.

Link Parties!

At My Romantic Home, Show and Tell Friday.  click!

Home Sweet Home at The Charm of Home.  click!

Feathered Nest Friday at French Country Cottage.  click!

Furniture Friday at Miss Mustard Seed.  click!

Vintage Inspiration at Common Ground.  click!

Autumn Arrives at That Old House -- Mosaics and A Metmorphosis

It is the last day of Summer.

I'd like to hang onto it, but. . . the grapes are ripe, the leaves are beginning to yellow, the tomatoes are staying green, and last night I was appalled when it was dark by 7:30.

Even I can't fight it. I'm tossing in the beach towel and welcoming Fall.


Some weeks back, I posted about not having done any decorating in the parlor; the mantel was usually bare, sometimes sporting a simple vase of garden or supermarket flowers. Or, all too often, the empty vase of flower water and a few fallen blossoms:

Pretty pathetic, huh? Yeah, you can say it.

So with the onset of the new season, I fished around in my
"Fall Decor"storage boxes to see what I could find.

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It's Metamorphosis Monday; thank you, Susan, for your hosting (hostessing?) of this terrific blog party at the equally terrific Between Naps On The Porch blog.

Click on any highlighted words or the icon to visit Susan's blog and see other entries.

I hope you stick around -- I would like your opinion on something!

For Mary at the lovely and elegant Little Red House, who hosts Mosaic Monday, I've put the parlor mantel into two collages. Mary's own mosaic today is particularly nice; I want to walk into it.

One of my mosaics is supposed to look very casual, as if you've just recklessly tossed the photos
and voila! they landed in perfect artless grace. Yeah, that's what I did. . . .

The other is more regimented.

The pictures stop clowning around and behave themselves.

Well, it ain't perfect, but it is an improvement over smelly flower water and dead petals.

Oh dear . . . another of my reality moments; the dust cloths are casually draped over the
arm of the wing chair, exhausted after their unaccustomed labor. Oops.

Closer looks:
My old hurricanes, with chunky candles perched on pewter candlesticks.
A pottery pumpkin -- can't remember where I got it.
The glass pumpkin at the other end -- a gift from my brother Lindy and his wife Carol.
A runner of old lace, from my Mom.

A swag of faux magnolia leaves (I think) and fruits and berries, to which I added some random glass-glittered fruit.
I've had this swag since 2002 and it's the first time I used it.

And now. . . this:

It's cute, but, well, kitschy -- a long string of tiny fake pumpkins and squashes; not any attempt to make it seem real. I draped it around the decorations, but ... I can't make up my mind.

Here's both ways --

With the phake pumpkin garland

Without the phake pumpkin garland

And there you have it.

I will leave you with a visit from a tiny friend,
who is inspecting our conservatory roof. . . and mooning us!
I'm not sure what he's finding up there, but he and his buddies are visiting every day.

Have a lovely last day of Summer. Sigh. Till June, then -- Cass