We finally decided to paint the old farm house. It had some sort of stucco on it that was rough with little pinkish and beige sharp-edged pebbles I'd always disliked. The stucco had never been painted, and although it probably wasn't as old as the house itself (which was built around 1900), it was definitely old.
In the 1970s a one-storey addition was built on, pointing the way further up the drive toward the old bank barn. It too had never been painted and was an unsightly brick.
We had sort of done what we could with the place, put in new windows, added a deck. But we had never considered just painting it.
Until now. But what colour? In Ontario all houses, though they are wood-framed, have either a brick or a stone exterior, and they come in every shade of beige or mud brown imaginable.
It is a strange thing that even the few houses with stucco or aluminum siding on them are beige or mud brown. In Nova Scotia or Newfoundland, as in many other parts of the world, the houses are bright pink and blue and green and red, each vying to be more noticeable than the next. Here in Ontario they are beige or mud brown, trying to be as indistinguishable as possible from their neighbours. I've often wondered why that is, why all buildings are "neutral," as though afraid to take a position. Their owners will talk about "resale value," as supposedly all potential buyers want also only beige or mud brown houses, but I have never bought that story.
I am not a beige kind of person. And I always take a position--which usually ends up costing me a job, a friendship, a group membership. Someone once (jokingly?) told me that I have borderline personality disorder. I thought that was very funny, because if there is one thing a borderline personality would hate more than anything else in the world, it is to be called borderline anything.
So it wasn't going to continue to be beige-ish and drab, this old farmhouse. So much of life is drab, and so many decisions are made to please others. We start out in life being filled with opinions, with love for the colours of the rainbow, and without worrying about the "market value" of anything. We laugh when we think something is funny (and we find a lot of things funny early on), and we enjoy the world.
Only not for long. In a way, despite what I just said about myself, I have gone beige and gray, and I am sad and worry about everything until there is no joy left, and little that is funny. According to Rebbe Nachman, sadness is the greatest sin, and we must do everything we can to cultivate a laughing mind.
And so we painted the house peppercorn grey. That is what you see when you drive along the road and look up across the horse paddock or along the gravel driveway. The grey is like the old bank barn which looms above the house.
In the 1970s a one-storey addition was built on, pointing the way further up the drive toward the old bank barn. It too had never been painted and was an unsightly brick.
We had sort of done what we could with the place, put in new windows, added a deck. But we had never considered just painting it.
Until now. But what colour? In Ontario all houses, though they are wood-framed, have either a brick or a stone exterior, and they come in every shade of beige or mud brown imaginable.
It is a strange thing that even the few houses with stucco or aluminum siding on them are beige or mud brown. In Nova Scotia or Newfoundland, as in many other parts of the world, the houses are bright pink and blue and green and red, each vying to be more noticeable than the next. Here in Ontario they are beige or mud brown, trying to be as indistinguishable as possible from their neighbours. I've often wondered why that is, why all buildings are "neutral," as though afraid to take a position. Their owners will talk about "resale value," as supposedly all potential buyers want also only beige or mud brown houses, but I have never bought that story.
I am not a beige kind of person. And I always take a position--which usually ends up costing me a job, a friendship, a group membership. Someone once (jokingly?) told me that I have borderline personality disorder. I thought that was very funny, because if there is one thing a borderline personality would hate more than anything else in the world, it is to be called borderline anything.
So it wasn't going to continue to be beige-ish and drab, this old farmhouse. So much of life is drab, and so many decisions are made to please others. We start out in life being filled with opinions, with love for the colours of the rainbow, and without worrying about the "market value" of anything. We laugh when we think something is funny (and we find a lot of things funny early on), and we enjoy the world.
Only not for long. In a way, despite what I just said about myself, I have gone beige and gray, and I am sad and worry about everything until there is no joy left, and little that is funny. According to Rebbe Nachman, sadness is the greatest sin, and we must do everything we can to cultivate a laughing mind.
And so we painted the house peppercorn grey. That is what you see when you drive along the road and look up across the horse paddock or along the gravel driveway. The grey is like the old bank barn which looms above the house.
But for Rebbe Nachman and ourselves, and for all the people who sometimes or often forget to cultivate a laughing mind, however sad the world may be--for all of us, we painted the addition....
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