Sorry!

It's been a busy, hectic summer and I'm afraid that I haven't worked much on Merriman Park. But I have been toiling on a rather major project for The Lilacs, my "real" house, which is a small bungalow built in 1908. We have always wanted to put in some sort of stone or brick patio out back, but have never been able to swing it, financially. But we finally decided to bite the bullet this Summer, so with great determination and spades in hand we broke ground around Memorial day.

The weather hasn't been very cooperative this season, either being pouring monsoon rains, or blistering heat with tropical humidity (or sometimes both)! So progress was slow, slow, slow! I thought we would NEV-AH complete the task. The job was made all the worse what with the dogs tracking in all the mud and sand. It quickly became impossible to walk across the hundred-year-old hardwood floors in ones bare feet. There was sand EVERYWHERE! Even in the bed. Gross.

Deciding on the type of pavers was not an easy decision either. We love the look of local Kasota limestone, but there was already a poured concrete sidewalk running through the property to deal with. Do we break it up and replace it as well? We opted to keep it ( I have always admired its gentle, meandering curve) and frankly, after the sheer horror of digging the hole and hauling away the seeming never-ending pile of soil for the main patio, tearing out all that concrete was simply NOT going to happen!

We then fell for vintage, granite cobblestones from the original horse-and-buggy-era streets of Minneapolis. A local salvage yard had mountains of them for sale and we liked the idea of reusing period-perfect materials from yesteryear. But these little beauties were sold strictly by the pre-packaged pallet and we were informed by the surly sales staff that 10% of the blocks were unusable because they had grooves carved into them to accommodate the street's antique trolley tracks. And no, they would not be interested in buying back the grooved cobbles, thank-you-very-much. Now what to do?

The answer came when we then found a modern facsimile at a local landscaping yard. These contemporary look-alikes not only mimicked their ye-olde counterparts, but also had the added advantage of being a standard size ( for easier installation) AND they were made from concrete --so they nicely complimented the existing path.

But Will We Ever Finish the Job?

So all that's left to do now is to pull out a few of the bricks and raise them up just a tad to level things out. (I don't think this is so necessary because personally, I like the charming, wavy effect but darling dearest INSISTS upon it being absolutely, PERFECTLY FLAT so I guess he put the kibosh on that idea). But believe you me, with a century old house, it will be the ONLY 100% flat surface. But what do I know ? Sheesh. Then, we have yet to sweep in the sand between the cracks hopefully BEFORE they fill themselves up with all the nasty refuse from the nearby heinous black walnut tree which I have been sworn to NEVER, EVER even mention removing, even though it's an evil, monstrous thing that could have been an actual prop from the original Poltergeist movie, and actually nearly murdered one of my poor, hapless, tow-headed nephews when the little nipper unwittingly toddled near its unholy clutches! KER-SPLAT!!! Landed a ghoulish-green, egg-sized walnut mere inches from little nephew's noggin. I tell you that tree is PURE EVIL, but it will IN NO WAY EVER COME DOWN, no not EVER so I might as well just drop it, right now --FORGET IT!

"Miniature" Ballgown --LOL!

OK, I know I'm pushing it --it's not really a miniature as in doll size. But this is the dress that I have been working on for about six weeks and yes! it is finally, at long last, complete!

I guess it probably doesn't look all that complicated but all those diamond shapes of my "updated harlequin" design are appliqued by hand. Each separate shape has grosgrain ribbon "stripes" sewn in rows, then I top-stitched a wider ribbon over everything to create the harlequin effect. Real, freshwater pearls are sewn where the ribbons intersect. (As always, you can click on the photo to get a closer look).

The party --or I should say parties-- are this weekend. I am also doing the decorations for all three events: a dinner after the Friday service, a luncheon after the Saturday service and then the Masquerade Ball on Saturday evening. I have already made up thirty-six planted arrangements in terracotta bowls for the luncheon and made table arrangements for the masquerade consisting of wig-forms with elaborate, feathered coiffures. They are pretty outrageous! I am making all-white, cut-flower arrangements for the dinner. I'll post pictures of everything next week. Then maybe I can get back to poor, neglected Merriman Park!

Update!

Merriman Park has sort of been put on the back burner, these days. I'm not gonna lie, the weather here in Minnesota has been way too glorious to stay cooped up in the basement with a giant, unfinished dollhouse! No, you don't understand! Spring usually sucks here in the Upper Midwest! We usually still have brown, crusty, leftover snow on the ground in April and we haven't had so much as a flurry since March first. It's INSANE! Not only have our ten-thousand lakes been unfrozen for ages but there are gaw-jess flowers blooming, people! The grass is green! I got sun burned, already! It's too surreal!!!

Also, my dollhouse project has been usurped by Project Runway. No, not the popular TV show, my own special, private project runway --I am making a party gown for my best friend's daughter who is turning thirteen and the theme for her Bat Mitzvah party is: Masquerade! The dress is a glittery confection of pink silk designed with an abstract harlequin pattern (thanks, Oscar de la Renta) embroidered from the fitted bodice to the bottom of its floor-length hem with iridescent fresh-water pearls. It's still just in pieces but I'll snap a pic if I can ever find the freakin' camera, which never seems to be in the same spot, ever!

Keystones

So here you can see some of the primed windows. I added keystones to the arched windows on the ground floor, along with crown moldings to give them a little more dimension. If you click on the photo you might get a better glimpse of them. Also new are the decorative stair ends from Sue Cook in England. Wait until you see the cast pewter balustrade (also from Sue Cook) which will go between the Ionic pillars! So cool! But it's going to be a while before they get installed...

I also decided to switch the window pediments from the bonnet style you see here to a triangular style. Originally I wanted to alternate triangular and semi-round pediments, but for some unknown reason the semi-round ones available through Houseworks are 1/4" smaller than the triangular and bonnet models. Stuff like that makes me insane! Why, why, why would they not make them all the same size except to plague and torment me! So anyway, I chose the bonnet pediments as a compromise but now I see that the triangular ones would have been the better choice.

I think that all I have left is to place paneled pilasters on the basement under the quoins. (They will match the pedestals on the roof). Then I can prime and paint the exterior!

Oh, I just realized the front steps are out of whack --don't worry-- they're not glued down, yet!

Balustrade

Worked on the chimneys and the roof balustrade. There are four chimneys and they will each get a crown molding around their tops. But that will have to wait for another trip to the local dollhouse shop. I also am waiting on a replacement balustrade because I accidentally destroyed one in a foolhardy attempt to hurry the project along. Pardon my blooper! It should be coming any day now from England along with miniature urns that will rest on top of the little paneled pedestals. The urns were manufactured in Scotland. I think the paneled pedestals are way nicer than the old plain ones, don't you think?

The chimney pots are new, too. They are wooden and came painted as you see them --I'll probably end up repainting them. I started priming all seventeen windows and if I thought making the mullions was a pain in the ass, let me tell you how boring this task is! All the windows have to be taken apart and all the separate pieces painted, then sanded, reassembled (there are so many little pieces I am afraid of loosing some). Then I get to do it all again when it comes time to paint the topcoat. WEEEEEEE!!!

Book Review: The Sixty-Eight Rooms by Marianne Malone

Newly available in stores, The Sixty-Eight Rooms by Marianne Malone will delight children of all ages who have a particular soft-spot for the Thorne Rooms in the Art Institute of Chicago. The Thorne Rooms are a collection of miniature room settings in historic period styles and are of exquisite "almost eerily realistic" design. In this story, young Ruthie and Jack discover that they can shrink themselves down to the rooms' scale, sneak inside the closed museum and explore the rooms' secrets.

Anyone who has been lucky enough to see the actual rooms will be able to relate to the young protagonists on their adventure. Those less fortunate, however, might have a hard time. Author Malone describes the rooms in lovely detail, but her descriptions pale to viewing the rooms themselves. You really have to see them to believe them!

That is why this work would have been more successful as a picture book. Oh, there are a few well-executed, dream-like illustrations by artist Greg Call. But when Malone writes things such as "Finally she arrived at room E12, an English Drawing Room from the year 1800." (these sort of lines run copiously throughout the book), I have a hard time believing a child is going to know what Malone is talking about... Drawing Room? 1800? E12? --Huh?

As I happen to have a copy of the Thorne Rooms museum catalog, I was able to reference each of the numbered rooms the characters visited. (The catalog is an almost must-have companion piece to this book).

The Sixty-Eight Rooms was an amusing afternoon diversion for this ardent fan of Mrs. James Ward Thorne. Devotes of the Thorne Rooms will undoubtedly agree.

Shady Island Cottage

I built this 1/4" scale model a year ago in a pathetic attempt to stay sane during the dreary, never-ending winter season, which seems to go on forever here in Minnesota. It is a replica of my childhood home on Shady Island, on the shores of Lake Minnetonka. Actually, it's not an exact replica --of course I made a few "improvements," such as placing the kitchen next to the dining room instead of on the opposite end of the house, an arrangement that I never quite understood, even at such a tender age. But what do I know from architecture?

The house was built around 1910 in the Arts and Crafts style. It was constructed of redwood 6X6 timbers and sheathed with tongue-and-groove redwood planks. That was it! (It was originally a summer cottage). The overall ambiance was of a cozy, rustic lodge. The fireplace, flanked by French doors to the porch, was made of stones pulled from the lake. When my parents purchased the house, it came with all the accumulated hodge-podge of furniture, including a suite of hickory "twig" furnishings (possibly Stickley) and a screen porch full of Art-Deco wicker. An ancient, upright piano stood sentry under one side of the the double stair. Boston McPhail read the plaque below its swagged garland of carved oak leaves and above its yellowed, ivory keys. There were taxidermy trophies scattered throughout: a deer's head here, a pheasant (with broken wing) there, antlers galore and most disturbing, a headless fish (chewed off by a foraging raccoon)! The vaulted living room was lit by electrified brass lanterns salvaged from the original cars of the dismantled trolley line that once crisscrossed the Twin Cities of Minneapolis and Saint Paul. The children's bedrooms were located up in twin open lofts that looked down to the main floor --girls on one side, boys on the other. Privacy was pretty much non-existent. But who cares about that when you're ten or twelve? It was a magic place. Nooks and musty crannies for days. I can still hear the rain tap, tap , tapping on the exposed rafters above my little twin bed.

I remember the perennial "rock garden," filled with the old-fashioned flowers which are still my favorites: iris, columbine, peonies, bleeding hearts, lily-of-the-valley. The lake-side, porch facade was lined with Annabelle hydrangeas. There was a ruined, ramshackle gazebo (that I swear to god was haunted). The best part was the view from the back porch: the sloping lawn with its zig-zag walk of flagstones heading down to the the lake. The shimmering, silver lake itself with Spray Island off to the right, Goose Island off to the left, the whole panorama framed by tall, flanking pines...

The house underwent an unfortunate 1970's redecoration and then we moved on to a more conventional, modern split-level. But I got my own bedroom! (Which suddenly seemed much more important to me at fifteen)! Eventually, the humble cottage fell into unsalvagable disrepair and was torn down when the lot it sat upon became increasingly more valuable. A horrendous, nondescript McMansion now sits on the site today. I hear they saved the fireplace.