Becoming Home: A Bit of Black
A little sneak peek last Saturday had several of you curious about what was happening here at the little house with a can of black paint and a brush. All I can say is, a glance at the weather forecast had me quickly convinced to move a couple outdoor painting projects to top o' the list that day. Warm temperatures and sunshine have been abundantly generous this fall, but the moisture and cooler temps are bound to come, so best get things sealed up and ready. And by that I specifically mean the front door.
It's an old door I dragged home from the Habitat for Humanity ReStore a couple years back to replace the builder-grade fiberglass one that came with the house (I'd asked the builder to put in an inexpensive stand-in door while I kept my eye out for an old one. The ReStore let me swap one for the other, with some extra cash thrown in). The door was solid fir, aged and a bit weathered. It was perfect.
Uh, it looked perfect. Didn't always act perfect. It swelled when it rained or snowed, causing annoying sticking that required even more annoying pushing and pulling to open and close. We'd blissfully forget the door's cantankerous tendencies during the drier months, but first rainy day, and we'd remember all too clearly. In more than one riled conversation, battle lines were drawn for and against. We couldn't have our family falling apart over a door.
Time for black paint.
Ever classic, a white painted house with a black front door has to be one of the most chic, yet welcoming combinations. The aged cedar porch and tangled perennial beds that surround ours keep it from feeling too fussy. A striped coir mat, a pile of squash (which Nellie kept carting off, one-by-one), and ever-present scattered leaves are just enough fall at its feet.
