Working with old houses, small spaces - Anne Boulton

We live in a charming old house. The floors are wood, the baseboards are high and the doorways are curved. The trees out front are at least 70 years old; their branches cascade across the lawn and make a fitting home for blue jays and red squirrels. When I come home, it feels welcome and lovely, like this house knows how to be a home. It’s had years of practice.

But doesn’t a fresh new love tend to fade with time? Doesn’t it tarnish with age? Things you once found delightful about your old home have been blemished by familiarity. And if you own an old home, perhaps your mind is recalling the once “quaint,” now “impossible” size of the linen closet.

When we first walked through the doors of the house, I noticed the lack straight away, but was seduced by a curvaceous stairwell that wrapped its way up to a second floor, straight out of a P.E.I farmhouse. Swoon!

As a result of my shortsightedness, my culpability, I’ve had to be creative about how I store my linens. The bathroom itself is miniscule, (but, oh, look! It has a brand new Jacuzzi!) and I wasn’t about to clog up the only space under the sink with baskets of towels.

In fact, baskets were out. I was never going to be the type that rolled her towels tightly lest they pop open from their basket home. Nor could I tolerate a towel that had been moistened by steam from someone else’s shower. Perish the thought.

My solution rested with a type of free-standing cabinet that I could place monumentally against a bare wall. I began to seek out this monolith and Kijiji ended up being the place. For a mere song, I rescued an antique armoire from a lady who was moving. It was in poor shape. The paint was partially applied; it smelled a tad funny; and the crooked wheels made it limp.

Ever the visionary, I snatched up this treasure and eagerly brought it home. Down in the basement workshop, I scraped off the white paint and sanded it delicately to remove any rough edges. Then I removed the hardware, bolstered the wheels, and removed the broken glass. Next I lay sheets of scented drawer liner to protect the linens from slivers.

The penultimate was the coat of high-gloss linen paint; the crown was the glass knobs purchased for much more than the cabinet itself at Anthropologie in Toronto. Et voila. A gorgeous, sensible, and efficient storage to house our quilts and woolens.

Every house has its limits. It’s up to you to find creative ways to ensure a happy home.

Anne Boulton is an avid gardener who lives in Sudbury. Contact her at [email protected] or visit her blog at boultonanne.typepad.com/greenboots.

Posted by Vivian Scinto