A wide swath of shade draped the side of the small house. Certain moments of the day gave this space an illusion of grace. It could only be described as an other world, as if one wandered into a small sanctuary.This wasn’t a curated space created from an owner’s wish to linger and rest awhile. It came about solely because of the exact combination of light and season. For a brief time, the simple space appeared sliced by a sunbeam. Amber glass bits encased within stucco, glinted and refracted light. Roy imagined himself in another world, a world filled with treasure. Magical, he thought. The young man paused and remembered, twenty five steps in either direction from the centre’s brilliance and the suspended moment ceased. He stood within the beam of light,closed his eyes and tumbled back through time.
Pansies flourished along the gardened edges of the stone path. Their dainty petals lifted to dance with the breeze. Within this peaceful mix of light and shadow, Roy stood soundless. Soon came a flash from memory. He envisioned two children; their heads tossed back, riotous waves of laughter rang out toward the heavens. Pure joy, light hearted bliss, emotions evoked only by those so innocent among us.
The calico cat settled on a patch of warm brick, eyes narrowed, watching the young man whose mind appeared deep in thought. Roy struggled to conjure the lost moment; a brief time between love and loss. He imagined himself an uncomplicated child of four. This long ago lad pumped the pedals of the box cart his father had carefully constructed. Alongside, seated upon a bench sat a dog, his beloved Jack Russell Terrier. Gone, the moment ended.
Roy shrugged, shook his mind to the present. He noticed the peeling paint on the wooden planks that surrounded the lower walls of the lowly structure. Dandelions, their blowsy tops long gone, bullied for space within the garden. The mangy cat’s tail thumped a miserable greeting. He saw their thrifted life, didn’t want it.
Fleeting, the beautiful memory and mood. Yet, he remembered …
It’s just a chair, an old chair. Yet, if this chair could speak; the stories it might tell. The couple who sat on them, gone. Perhaps it would share the couple’s Saturday morning plans as they prepared the necessary grocery list. Their turn to host an evening’s cocktail social for the neighbours.
“Cliff,don’t forget the Glen Fiddich.”
They were big on appetizers and scotch. Politics, quail and rose gardens. They visited France. I remember.
The chair sat in the garage. I felt an overwhelming need to take a pause and notice. Lovely in its simplicity, the curved back begged touch, beckoned me to slip fingertips along the sloped top.
The chair and its twin remained in a garage for several years. Ignored. Dampness set in. The wood split and greyed. The nail heads rusted and seeped.The chairs stood disgraced.They knew she’d never approve of their current state of affairs.
Annie Sloan chalk paint never disappoints. I washed the grime away. Dressed in a coat as white as snowbells in early spring, the chair straightened. Pretty, fresh. After a gentle sand, the chair’s personality shone through. Paint slipped off the wood in all the right places. A buff of wax and she smiled. I remembered.
As an afterthought, I applied a royalish stencil, minus the crown. Which is just as well. Enough, it’s just enough.
Today was a quiet day; a day to putter and “nest.”In between gusting winds and rare moments when rays of warm sunshine kissed through the chill, I managed to get my rear in gear and tackle a funky, junky old chair that has spent too many winters in a shed.Two coats of annie sloan white chalkpaint and “ta da!” Tomorrow I’ll sand the paint, consider touch ups, and perhaps add a stencilled crown. Stay tuned for the final reveal.
PS~ A "shout out" to my inspirational blogging sister, Found This, Painted That. https://foundthispaintedthat.wordpress.com/