Sweet Little Shed Revisited...yet again

   So the sweet little shed was the very first thing we fell in love with a year ago when we arrived at the property a few minutes before our dear agent Shelly. And how could we help it...just look at her in her splendid innocence, vines and moss growing unchecked, standing there proudly yet precariously on her bug-infested posts.

Shed sans roof

So of course we made an offer on the house the first day we saw it. Then upon inspection two weeks later, Ron told us that if we wanted to keep the shed, we would need to replace the roof and further support her undercarriage, or risk her inevitable collapse.

Shed avec roof

Once Tim the roofer had finished his task, and Pete had added support posts and beams beneath the shed, it was time to clean out the spider webs and god knows how many years of dust and dirt.

Front of shed

After sweeping about ten times I brought out the tortured vacuum cleaner which has been given a decided rest now that it lives in a home of beautiful plank floors. When it seemed impossible to entice any more decay from between the floor boards I decided to clean it with white paint.

That seemed to keep more dirt at bay....so now the serious decision could be broached...color! 

Now, I am about at the end of my color lives, having chosen no fewer than ten in the past year, and I am in abject fear of running out of color luck. So I decided to take the greatest risk yet - a color that has no place WHATSOEVER in a shed that was built in 1850....sea foam...WHAT?!?

I have gotten THAT color-cocky. I thank my lucky stars that my color shopping days will soon be over because I feel I am a danger to myself at this point....but...

What say you, dear family and friends? Does it not look happier and prouder today? The last few nights I have taken a candleabra out to the shed in the early darkness, placed it on the floor, and admired this sweet little shed like I have never admired it before. It is dearly loved.

Hammonassett State Park

    Last Sunday I decided to take a bike ride to the beach. Now it's a snap to get to the small beach in town - just a small hill over the railroad tracks, a right on Main Street, then the first left... and there you are. 
   But I wanted to ride to the state park over in the next town which boasts one of the most beautiful beaches in the state. I would have to ride through our little town, over the marshes, across a few rivers, pedal into the next town and there I'd be. It seemed like a lovely Sunday outing. The maps told me it was a mere three miles...easy peasy...and so I was off.

     I got to town hall unscathed and crossed over the first bridge ...

 Indian River in Clinton

I passed two yoga studios, three churches, umpteen 18th century homes, some lovely wildflower gardens, a couple of antique shops....then over another bridge,

Harbor on Hammonassett River

then into the next town of Madison and beyond their little ice house,

pedaling through the marsh,

then into the park...

where rose hips on the beach rugosa line the paths,

Brilliance of sumac

and both the roses and golden rods kiss the Sound,

and rocks line some of the coast,

and on others sugary white sand,

and all of this beauty enjoyed from a bike, on a Sunday, in quiet, non-descript little coastal towns.

Happy Trails!