Grandpa's House....The Dearest Little Cottage

Grandpa Pettit died way back in 1982 I believe. I was newly married then. His house was subsequently sold and for years and years it fell in to worse and worse disrepair. The grass was rarely mown, the home wasn't painted, it actually had looked rundown totally neglected and abandoned even while someone lived there.

Recently it was sold again, and it's looking more like Grandpa's house once more. They obviously painted it and I was overjoyed to see it in a crisp new white coat and that they kept the striped awnings and red trim just like he had. Oh, and when I got home and uploaded the picture the, nostalgia hit me like a snowstorm!

I and my siblings had always loved the little front porch with the little cottage-y offset pointed roof, wooden screen door and his little rounded front steps and multi-level sidewalk. The porch seemed like a perfect place for little kids to play "house" and sometimes he would let us do just that.

Grandpa always lined the front sidewalk that ran from the front porch to the garage and on to the drive with the flowers pictured below. I try to plant some moss roses every summer now, and think of him each time I plant them.

Grandpa built this cement block house during WWII. I've heard stories about how he had to scavenge for materials and build it slowly over the course of time. I was so happy about how it looked so good again that when we were up north Sunday, I had to stop and shoot a photo to keep for myself.

This house holds great memories for me and one day I will work up the courage to stop in and ask to have a look inside! I especially loved the upstairs, there was a wooden stairway to walk up, and in it were little nooks and crannies, dormers with low windows and lovely vintage (even then!) furnishings and linens such as embroidered dresser scarves and chenille bedspreads and old quilts.

Grandpa was an antiques dealer and furnished his home almost completely with antiques. I suupose that is why now I can't get enough of them, he taught us to love the old things. Most of us kids still do love anything old. He made them all interesting and fun. He would smile a lot while telling us his stories. He would let us dig through the piles of goodies and furnishings he brought home from estate sales and auctions, and dig we did. We were pretty good at that. I wonder if he ever thought we were annoying wanting to look through everything?

He could fix and repair anything old from remanufacturing a part, making a new spindle to replace one that was missing, or reupholstering anything at all, even the fanciest of old victorian-era couches to repairing and refurbishing a pump organ or player piano!

He had a special talent for finding old goodies and always had a great story to tell about anything he'd sell. Of course, he remembered most of the items, as he was born in 1898 and had at one time or another seen them used of himself used a lot of what he sold. Being a teacher, it was his nature to help the buyer learn about what he or she was buying. We would be in the shop while customers were there and listen as he told them about their purchases. They loved to visit with him and because of that he had a good clientele of repeat customers. He had some of the coolest old stuff. I wish I could go back and revisit and ask him more questions as an adult. He was a man of so many talents.

The windows upstairs held a special fascination for me, the little curtains so sheer and delicate blowing in the breeze. Of course, Grandpa was a wonderful gardener and there will probably never again be the glorious beauty surrounding the house with blooms and evergreens mixed with hardwoods that he worked so hard to make look good. And back of the house and gardens sat his tree nursery and antique shop businesses he ran for years on the hill behind the house. Next door was a cemetery and if we got bored, we were allowed to go over and walk around and read the gravestones. I still find that to be an interesting pastime.

It was fun--a real treat-- to spend the night there as upstairs were floor pass-through type heat registers you could look downward right through the living room ceiling! And from a child's perspective, seeing the tops of all the adults' heads was hilarious!

I find it heartwarming that it looks again like the comfortable, cozy cottage I remember visiting as a child. I wonder if there's a giant braided rag rug in the kitchen? Twin platform rockers in the living room with a tiffany lamp on the table between? I wonder if the Tiger games once again play on the transistor radio in the kitchen? Is there a lidded candy dish of pink mints on the buffet? Cheese under the glass on the oilcloth covered table? Oh, how I wish I could go there again and visit him just once more.



Grandpa used to line his sidewalk with moss roses, like these. They'e annuals and can grow and thrive in poor soil and can take full sun, they're hardy little buggers.