Happy Halloween

“The dominant spirit, however, that haunts this enchanted region, and seems to be commander in chief of all the powers of the air, is the apparition of a figure on horseback without a head […] However wide awake they may have been before they entered that sleepy region, they are sure, in a little time, to inhale the witching influence of the air, and begin to grow imaginative – to dream dreams, and see apparitions.”

 

~Washington Irving

 

 

I've talked about Washington Irving before. I talk about him too much. My muse. And this time of year makes him seem an appropriate conversation topic.

 

But no one wants to hear me wax on about Irving. It's Halloween!

I have always loved this holiday to distraction, but I haven't put much effort into it in a long time. I had a party to go to last weekend, and my costume inspiration was this pic of Jeff and Britta from Community:

Leather jacket? Check. Cat ears? Check. The lazy way out, but I haven't felt much like dressing up since that awkward Dorothy moment from elementary school. My mom handmade my blue gingham dress; I had ruby slippers and a basket and a little stuffed Toto. And at one house, a girl I went to school with answered the door. She was my age, but about five feet taller than I was. She gave me a Regina George smile and said, "Awww! Look at little Lauren, all dressed up as Dorothy. Hooow cute."

It wasn't embarrassing at all.

Everyone be safe and eat too much candy. I'll be spending my evening writing, trying to meet that December deadline.



The Woods

 

 

Ooh, ya'all...I just had a Walker-related idea...

 

That two weeks I took off aren't helping my concentration.

First Frost

 

 

It's always an October phenomenon. And as bitter as it is, it's beautiful too. And the way it smells...love. Crisp and snowy, with an undercurrent of smoke. Love, love.

 

What I also love: The tile is done. Finally! After eight hours of grouting on Thursday, the patio is completely finished. On one hand, I don't ever want to do anything like that again. But on the other hand, I know how to lay tile now, and that feels like an accomplishment.

 

Leaves have already invaded and I was too lazy to sweep them out of the pics. Oops.

 

 

 

 

 

Two Worlds

Reason #217 why I can't stop writing: Hopping between worlds. Literal worlds, sometimes, if we're talking fantasy. But subtle, figurative worlds. I love the Walkers; they were my first fictional family, my babies. And they were 100% metro Atlanta suburban, small yards, crowded drives, carpool, chain grocery stores and all. I like the universal aspect of the setting: a common place, with characters who were relatable in a lot of ways, but uncommon in spirit and connection. It was fun: my experiment in making ordinary extraordinary.

The Russells, though, are part of a whole other Southern world. They're country, and rural, street savvy, and counter culture around the edges. They're more honkey-tonk than soccer mom. Boots and muscle cars and dirt under their nails. Theirs is a world shunned by townies, but it's a real world, and it has its own kind of art. That's my challenge with this series: Bring this world to life, show its real shadows, and not just jumble a bunch of clichés around. It's Old South meets Cali cool meets casual. It's standing up to a challenge, and taking care of yourself. And it is so much fun to write about.

Season for Writing

The writer in me loves autumn and winter. It's so much more atmospheric than summer, creatively anyway. And there's something about the cold that brings a story together. I love the smells, and the colors. I love cozy sweaters and knit hats and striped gloves. I love boots. I LOVE boots.

But, like the tree frog hanging out on the porch, I'm not ready for it to be cold! My loss is a reader's gain, though; the colder it is, the more I want to curl up and write.

Letting myself be inspired by the season; thinking Russell thoughts.

Walker Pins

Why is it so fun to decorate fictional houses? Pinterest has become my favorite place to find Rosewood visuals; there's all kinds of Victorian goodies on there. And though I'm never going to own a lakeside Victorian mansion, I can still scroll through pics and drool. I've got new stuff, and more coming, to check out on my Walker Visuals board over on Pinterest. It's helping energize me to finish the Rosewood story collection.

DIY Week

 

 

Despite the weather's lack of cooperation, this has been one looooong week of DIY-ing. It's been a whole family-involved roster of projects.

 

All the way back to last weekend, the horses got new shoes, and my dad and I fixed the tractor. The bush hog attaches to the back of the tractor via a three-point hitch. One of the three bolts that locks it all in place came loose, fell off, and the bush hog was hanging awkwardly off the back, dragging the ground. It became a point of pride (for me at least) to figure the mess out ourselves and not have to call the John Deere guys out to get it hitched back up for us. If you've never unhooked a bush hog from a tractor and hooked it back up before, let me assure you, it's nothing like hooking a truck up to a horse trailer - it's much, much more complicated and tedious than that. But between the two of us, we unhitched, PTO and all, hitched back up, and then I finished bush hogging the pasture.

 

Yay. On to the next one.

 

Every year, the front porch needs repainting. Between the sun, rain, cold, and Riddick's claws scratching across it, the paint wears thin. So two new coats of gray paint went down on the boards. Not all the furniture is back in place yet.

 



 

 

Then, the fish pond needed to be emptied of its plants and cleaned out for the winter.

 

Check.

 

 

 

And then there's been the real project: Tiling the patio. I don't know if I've ever talked about the wretched shape this farm was in when my family bought it, but it was in some serious need of love and beautification. Years of neglect and, before that, years of bad taste, had left the place looking sad and, well, ugly. But the bones were there. And the motto all along has been that, if we want our dream of having a family farm to come true, we'll have to put some major elbow grease into it. We've always had more work ethic than money. So over the last few years, it's been a slow overhaul of the whole place, from fencing in all 18 acres, to making the barn livable for horses, to beautifying the house. When we moved in, the back patio was concrete painted the same color as the natural Georgia red clay. While smart - dirty boot prints wouldn't show - it was unseemly. So my mom painted the concrete in shades of gray for a softer look. It lasted for a while, and was really quite nice, but, like all things, the weather and time started to take its toll. The patio has been a sore spot for about a year now, and ideas were tossed around about how to give it a lasting makeover.

 

The solution? 13x13 porcelain tiles. The issue? None of us has laid a tile in our life.

 

This is where all those breakfasts while watching HGTV have come in handy.

 

My parents and I have laid tile all this week, over 400 of them. We've measured, cut, mudded, set, and grouted it all on our own. I hate to admit it, but I'm a little bit proud. I never would have thought this was something I could do, and here I've been on hands and knees all week, laying tile like a real contractor, and hurting all over for it. I have so much respect for guys who do this for a living! It's a full-body ache the likes of which I haven't felt since being trampled by a horse (and I mean that literally).

 

Looking at it now, knowing I had a hand in it...that's a good feeling.

 

Here's the before. It looks hideous, I know, and even worse once the furniture, back steps, and potted ferns were taken away. Eek!

 

First, a layer of gritty primer went down so the mud would stick to the concrete.

 

 

Then, the mud was mixed with water in buckets and slopped onto the concrete. It was smoothed, and grooved, and then the tile went down, with spacers between each one to ensure an even grout line.

 

 

At the edges, tiles had to be measured and cut with a wet saw to fit in the leftover gaps.

 

 

When the mud had dried (for 24 hours) the grout went down, slopped onto the cracks and smoothed in with a float.

 

Then excess grout was wiped up with a wet sponge. And left a clean, gray line of grout between each tile.

 

Sophie seemed to like it.

 

There's still a little grouting left to go. I'll post an after shot once it's all done and the furniture is back in place. As for this week, I'm looking forward to getting back into writing!