Old houses must be kept up to “live” longer

Old west window (cracked) in Green Room (plants)

                “Years of water damage stain the walls. Holes in the ceiling expose the second floor to the first. The staircase creaks, boards straining under the pressure of each footstep. A musty aroma taints the air, as if someone was rifling thru’ pages of an old book.”

                This describes the 1870s house in Fayetteville, the Stone-Hilton house, a significant structure in the Washington-Willow Historic District. [To be given this] designation it must be associated with a significant event, person or architectural style, or hold important information about the past. It must be at least 50 years old— (Alexander Nicoll, NWA D-G pg. 1B, 8.6.17)

                Back last year, I jotted down the paragraphs above, added them to a computer document under the heading, “Standard column for early 2018 – old houses.” Early left a long time ago, but circumstances make this a good lede for this post.

                Couchwood (I named it myself after moving here 12 years ago) was built in 1932-33, making it old enough to be historic. However, as far as I know, Saline County doesn’t have a “historic district.” Those of us who’ve lived in the Salem community all—or nearly all—our lives are the only ones who consider it so.

                Only a scant few years younger than this house built of white rock and red brick, I inherited it. The eldest of seven siblings and the only one without a house of her own were two reasons the parents deeded it to me. 

                                             Outside new windows on the north, & old ones

          I’ve improved the inside through the years: new carpets, replaced linoleum with tile in the kitchen and refinished the hardwood floors. Later, unhappily taking down the cracked, and in one place, missing, thick plaster ceilings in the two front rooms. Then painting the 1970s paneling that covered cracking wall plaster—all these were earlier upgrades.

                But when an elder at Ebenezer UMC showed me photos of windows in a house he was renovating, a brain wave zapped inside my head. “Windows,” it said. “He does windows. Your drafty, thin-paned windows have needed replacing for ages.” So, he and I made plans.

Office/ Blue room without any windows

                As I write, all 30 windows now have double-paned, cleanable windows. The outsides are white vinyl and the inside facings are aromatic raw wood until I get around to painting them. Though all windows except the two short kitchen ones (only one was delivered) are in and screens are attached, there is all the debris clean up and repairing the north yard where a forklift dug into the wet ground while hoisting the three mulled attic windows.

                Folks swear I’ll love the reduced heating and cooling bill. But I insisted (with the approval of son Eric) the window ACs be reinstalled, so I had to finagle ways to keep the drafts stopped around all five of them. Thank goodness for wide packing tape.

                It already takes the back rooms less time to heat up to a comfortable temp. And he can’t tell me, but Greye-the-cat will be warmer in the attic now when he chooses to go there.

                Though I hope to live in this more- modern-on-the-inside house at least ten more years, it can never be on a “historic homes” register.

                                                 New Blue Room/ Office windows

         c 2018, PL dba lovepat press, Benton AR USA