One Photograph, One Story
The View From Here
I've written quite a bit about our kitchen over the years. In fact, there's an entire megapost devoted to it. I've written about the renovations, the windows, the ceiling, and even the little shelf I made years ago.
But somehow, I've never really written about the breakfast nook itself.
Which is a little surprising, considering how much time we've spent sitting there.
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| The breakfast nook at House 173. An awful lot has happened around this table. |
I've occupied pretty much the same spot at that table for more than twenty-nine years. And the other day I got to wondering just how many meals that might add up to.
Thirty years times 365 days comes to 10,950. Now, take away vacations, meals out, and whatever else might have kept me away from the table, and we're still talking about an awful lot of dinners.
Possibly ten thousand of them.
That's a lot of mashed potatoes.
Just one morning I would like to sit down and have breakfast without social significance.— Jim Blandings (Cary Grant)Mr. Blandings Builds His Dream House (1948)
Of course, the table wasn't always the one you see today.
When we first bought 173, we had my grandmother's old kitchen table from the 1950s, the kind with sides that folded down. It came with two chairs with those padded vinyl seats that seemed to be everywhere back then.
We used that set for the first three or four years.
Eventually, we scraped together enough money to buy a new table and chairs from Kmart, just a few miles away. It was one of those farmhouse-style sets with a honey-colored wooden top and hunter-green painted parts.
Very fashionable at the time.
The Kmart is long gone, and hunter green isn't quite the decorating sensation it once was, but the table and chairs are still here. And we still think they look pretty good.
Now, from my usual seat, with the clock and the wolpertinger on the wall nearby, I can see almost the entire backyard.
And I've watched quite a bit happen out there.
I've watched squirrels run along the top of the fence, apparently taking great pleasure in tormenting Bruegger, then Linus, and now Charlie.
I've witnessed bird fights, bird baths, and all sorts of activity around the feeder hanging from the shed. We even positioned the birdbath where we could see it from the table.
I've watched the lilac grow from something no taller than my knees into the beautiful shrub it is today. I've watched the garden bench weather, get refreshed, weather some more, and get refreshed again. At least three times, I think.
The vegetable garden started as a tiny patch with a piece of string that was supposed to keep Bruegger out. Since then, it's grown considerably and gone through three or four different fencing arrangements.
I've seen four cars come and go in the carport. I've watched the carport itself change from an angle-iron structure with a plastic roof into the wood-clad, metal-roofed version we have today.
I've seen some absolutely beautiful skies.
And I've watched a backyard that was mostly crabgrass and weeds become what it is now.
All from that same spot at the table.
Of course, a good deal of what's happened at the breakfast nook has nothing to do with what's outside the window.
For about twenty-five years, we've had a nightly tradition called the Super Quiz. Ten questions during the week, sixteen on Sundays. We even predict our scores before we begin.
And I'm pleased to report that after all those years, I've actually learned a thing or two.
Geography used to be my particular downfall.
If a question involved South America, my answer was usually Brazil. Didn't matter what the question was.
Africa?
Chad.
I had a remarkably simple understanding of world geography.
These days, I'm no geographical genius, but I get most of those questions right. Apparently, twenty-five years of being asked questions every evening will eventually teach you something.
Who knew?
But the breakfast nook has never been just a place to eat or answer quiz questions.
It's been a place to sit and read for an evening. A place to have a bowl of ice cream. A place for conversations that might last five minutes or considerably longer.
Years ago, when the telephone was mounted on the wall near the wolpertinger, it was also where we'd sit to talk with family and friends. Back when telephones had cords, you generally stayed reasonably close to wherever the telephone company had decided you ought to have a conversation.
And that was often the kitchen table.
There have been countless ordinary evenings there, and I couldn't begin to remember most of them individually.
Nor would I expect to.
But I do know that I've watched the neighborhood change, the backyard mature, and an awful lot of news about the rest of the world come and go while sitting in that little room.
And, come to think of it, I've changed a fair amount myself.
The kitchen has always been the heart of House 173.
But if we're going to be anatomically specific about it, I'd say the breakfast nook is the left ventricle.
And before anybody from the cardiology department objects, I should mention that the Director has already approved that designation.
So there.
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Keep Wandering
There’s more to see around House 173. Choose one below and wander in.
The Kitchen Megapost
There's quite a bit of history behind the kitchen at House 173. From renovations to little projects along the way, here's how it all came together.
Made at 173: A Simple Shelf for the Kitchen
One of my earliest woodworking projects is still hanging in the breakfast nook, more than twenty-five years later. Not bad for a little shelf.
Hey, thanks for stopping by - see ya' next time!
