This is the telling of a sad little tale.
The refinishing of this birdhouse, has been one of my most favorite projects ever. Between the excitement of using Annie Sloan paint for the first time, the color I fell so in love with, and the YouTube crash course video lesson I watched, on how to paint tiny roses in order to adorn my sweet new birdhouse with, it’s a project I truly enjoyed the process of.
I have to say, it’s held up so well, out there in the weather of all kinds, too. I did put it away for the winter, but otherwise, it has stood right over on the other side of my garden beds, under the apple tree. I have finished projects I’ve done all over my homestead, of course, and I love to see them around. This birdhouse has truly been a piece that still plays a part in bringing me a bit of joy every day.
So imagine my sheer panic this one very (very) early morning this summer: The kids and I were still in bed, and I was still pretty much sleeping. All of our windows were open a little, and I began to stir out of my sleep with the sound of some repetitive rhythm sound on hard wood outside. I was confused by it, being somewhere between asleep and awake, and so I tried to bring myself out of the grog I was in, wondering if I was dreaming, or what. But next thing I know, I hear little feet hit the floor hard, and come booming across the house floor, and my son yelling, “Mama, there’s a woodpecker pecking your birdhouse outside!”
That woke me up!… Read More