A Bookish Decatur Fairytale Come True

It began in  2010, when I first saw a Little Free Library on nearby Wilton Drive and envisioned one in my yard. The registered number of that LFL was #838.

In May, 2012, my friend Kaaren and I saw a doll house on her neighbor’s curb, discovered it was up for grabs, dragged it home, and asked my husband to convert it to a Little Free Library for our yard. Little did we know we had set in motion a string of events that would eventually capture the imagination of all our friends and neighbors.

Ode to the Mystery

on Pinetree Drive

                               ~Debby Miller  

1.  A dollhouse, outgrown and discarded,

From Burlington to Pinetree was carted.

            Intended to be

            A library free,

Right away, the new owner got started.

2. It would be the best birthday gift ever.

His wife would so love the endeavor.

            He’d build a new roof,

            Add a door, waterproof,

To keep her books safe from the weather.

Six months later, the unimproved dollhouse was still in the garage . . .

3. Alas, the great plan had a hole.

For his schedule was out of control.

            Too soon came the date.

            Her gift would be late.

But at least he could mount it on pole.

So, in November 2012, on the eve of her birthday . . .

4. He worked by the light of the moon.

It was worth it to hear her croon.

            “A Little Free Library?

            A gift extraordinary!

And I know you will finish it soon.”

5. But the weeks, they came and they went.

His time by his job was well-spent.

            Then one day sublime,

            In the fullness of time,

A small change became evident.

By now it was January 2013 . . .

6. First—a tiny table and chair.

The mystery was, “Who put it there?”

            We questioned our friends.

            All leads were dead-ends.

So, how did it come, and from where?

7. Soon a miniature cupboard appeared.

Still, nobody volunteered.

            More pieces showed up,

            Nobody fessed up,

But at each new arrival, we cheered.

8. A fireplace, a bed, and a stove,

Pieces tucked into every alcove.

            A bunny, if you please,

            And a pet Siamese,

Became part of the treasury trove.

9. An easel with original art!

A piano for performing Mozart!

            You were ever so clever.

            We kept hoping, however,

That your secret you soon would impart.

10. One morning the windows had curtains.

We had to find out now, for certain.

            Your ID, kept hazy,

            Is driving us crazy!

How long can you keep up this flirtin’?

One piece at a time, across seven months . . .

11. Your wit simply can’t be outdone.

Your game was tremendously fun.

            From unfinished small house,

            To full furnished doll house,
No question, you hit a home run.

Dollhouse on pole

A closer look

Elfin kitchen
The white bunny showed up on Easter morning

Elf OfficeNotice the cut sticky pads to keep the furniture from blowing away 

Elf bedroom
complete with corner fireplace and custom handmade curtains

Even an artist's studio

with easel and original painting of

 a giant face peeking in the window.

July 2013, seven months after the first chair had appeared, it was time. . .

12. The dollhouse would soon be replaced,

With a library for readers with taste.

            We had finally hired

            An architect, retired,

To finish the job, post haste.

13. When he came to remove it from view.

Little Library was long overdue.

            It was taken away,

            And the very next day.

On the pole came a sign, said “Boo hoo!”

Passersby asked what happened to the house . . .

14. The neighbors had watched it evolve.

Now we all boo-hooed the dissolve.

           But with our thanks, fare thee well,
           And a story to tell,

Of your housekeeping duties, be absolved.

15. One hope remains from the fact

That you don’t have your furniture back.

            We’ll return it toot sweet,

            If you appear on the street,

To join us for wine and a snack.

                                                                                     

That was the limerick I hung on the empty pole, minus the photos and commentary between verses, in hopes that the mystery benefactors would bite . . . 

16. Continuing on with the history

Of the ongoing Pinetree mystery,

            With the limerick still up,

            We went out for sup

To mark our forty-second anniversary.

July 24, 2013 . . .

17. We dined in a restaurant from Rome.

It was late when we returned home.

            When we switched on the light,

            Right there in plain sight,

Was a little note taped to my phone.

18. It might have said, “Mystery solved!”

But for us it was still unresolved.

            A note in the kitchen?

            Now that’s just bewitchin’

Does this mean our family’s involved?

19. Was our daughter the mystery maker?

We simply could not wait to wake her.

            She woke in a fuzz,

            But she knew who it was!

Of the note she was just the caretaker.

20. Her story was this: Came a knock.

It was just after seven o’clock.

            Two folks we don’t know

            Gave a friendly hello,

And at last, they were ready to talk.

21. But alas, we were out for the night.

The timing was not yet quite right.

            Folk artist was he,

            A writer was she,

They would just leave their cards and take flight.

22. But not without bidding us well,

With a promise their story to tell,

            Would I come the next day

            Just a few blocks away?

This time I should ring their doorbell.

The next day, with a touch of trepidation, I drove to the Adair Street address on their business cards after seven months of wondering . . .

23. The house was well kept, and disarming.

The people inside, truly charming.

            In three minutes flat,

            We were deep into chat

Of the mystery from both sides, heartwarming.

Meet Bill Kaiser
and Barbara Allen

24. From careers, they both have retired.

And both are creatively wired.

            You can tell it by looking.

            Their home is quite cooking

With orginal art, well inspired.

25. His art fills the house and the yard.

Hers comes out in words, like a bard.

            And it’s beautiful art . . .

            Good taste from the heart . . .

The kind one can highly regard.

26. Their charm, it was hard to resist.

Their energy not to be missed.

            From the start, did they know

            How their story would grow?

Their side of the picture was this:

27. He had spied the small house every Sunday

On his way to men’s breakfast, and one day,

            He fancied himself

            As a dollhouse elf,

And from then on, each Sunday was fun day.

28. Their identity, finally, I knew.

But my family would want to know too.

            I invited them back

            To our house for a snack,

The whole story again to review.

29. Then of course our friends wanted to meet

The elves who had captured the street.

            At their house, a meal hearty,

            At our house, a big party,

We planned for the gather and greet.

30. Meantime the dollhouse had been changed

To a Little Free Library, and arranged

            With an honorary room,

            For the people with whom,

We have since in new friendship engaged.

31. The little room got its design

from dollhouse consultant friend Lina.

            And of course, builder Paul,

            Who pulled it all

Together with craftsmanship fina.

The Kaiser Allen Reading Room

32. New Year’s Eve for the party was cited.

All the people involved were invited.

            With a blanket wrapped tight

            Round the house till midnight,

Oh, what cheers the unveiling excited!

33. More questions were asked, bright and bold,
As both sides of the story were told.
Then come to find out,
With a murmur and shout,
Barbara too, had a limerick, Behold!

**********

       Dollhouse Poem

                ~Barbara Allen

We love our Decatur downtown

The courthouse, the squirrels, up and down

but for a daily trip,

we tended to skip

We'd much rather drive around.

Using Pinetree saved us a lot,

It got us from West Ponce to Scott

To get Chinese or curry,

always in a hurry

we usually took the short cut.

One day a brand new dimension

A DOLLHOUSE, it caught our attention

Raised on a pole

No front, but a whole

house, and a porch/deck extension.

Oh, goody, we said on our way

Someone is going to display

A new place, all shiny

A house, but more tiny

we'll happily track this each day.

But weeks and weeks went by

And still no one would try

To put in a buffet

a sofa, a tea tray

We thought we could hear the house cry.

Bill just couldn't stand the bare

So one day he added a chair.

An artist at heart

He was glad to start

The furnishing with his own flair.

Each Sunday he tried to be sneaky

Although the rain made it quite leaky.

He'd put in a hutch,

a table, not much

Now hooked, he swung by there weekly.

It would require

a place for a fire.

then add something pretty

a little white kitty.

For Easter a bunny

would really be funny.

a lamp and a stool

would look pretty cool.

But all good things must come to an ending

So one day we drove 'round the bending

Did it disappear

Our dollhouse, so dear?

Is this it, or is more a-pending?

We found out the rest of the tale

A project, neglected, went stale.

Without detection,

We'd changed its direction.

Small LIBRARY is coming, all hail!

After the party, we waited until Springtime, April 2014, when . . .

34. Husband Moe took on a big role.

By building a sturdy new pole.

            He and son-in-law Thad

            Worked together like mad

To cement the new house in the hole.

35. Two doors on the front had new hooks,

Scott mapped out a garden for looks.

            Next, Thad prepped the soil.

            The plants were my toil.

Then at last it was ready for books.

Son-in-law Thaddeus Nathaniel

36.  The only thing left yet to do

For our Little Free Library new

            Was order the lumber

            for our registered number

Six thousand seven hundred twenty-two!
                                                                 dkm

Architect and Builder
Paul Buechele

Tiled upstairs patio
with stained glass window
created by Paul

Me with Kaaren Nowicki,
the friend who helped rescue
the dollhouse from Burlington Rd.

Neighbor Tom McHaney
Prime Suspect

Friends Pearl McHaney
and Sara Weigle
Suspects  2 and 3

Granddaughter Makayla
Suspect #4

Grandson Nickolas
Suspect #5

Neighbor Clark Weigle 
piled on by adding a tiny artist's canvas 
painted by his son James.

The Criminal Element
Nextdoor neighbors, Frank and Maureen Glass,
had planned to outline a body and add yellow
crime tape, but we took the dollhouse down too soon.

Thank you, Bill and Barbara, for bringing such fun to our Decatur community of good neighbors, friends and book-lovers! 

 

More information about Little Free Libraries can be found at:

littlefreelibrary.org

dkm

  

On Being Still

One thing I've learned from my backyard long-sittings is that when I'm moving fast, the world seems still. Strong, stable, and supportive—but still.  It's not until I stay still and quiet for an extended period of time that the backyard livens into activity I couldn't have seen while crashing through with a compost bucket or garden rake. 

Take this morning, for example. First it was the barely audible tap tap tapping of a downy woodpecker, finding breakfast in the dying hickory tree with industry and determination, resting every now and then to offer its distinctive descending whinny. In the grass hopped a pair of Eastern Towhees—one following the other. At first I thought it was the less colorful female pursuing her more vivid rufous sided lover. Odd, in bird world. But on closer inspection, it appeared to be a disheveled fledgling having a training session with its father, learning the art of towhee foraging behavior.  A chipmunk investigated an old cement planter. The ubiquitous squirrels scampered around the yard—I counted six of them at once. A messy fledgling brown thrasher preened in the holly tree, and tested his wings, flitting from branch to branch before taking off across the yard. 

Then, oh precious then, a tiny furry bunny ventured into the grass to nibble on something. Clover?  I've noticed that rabbit hole in the walk path. Not far away, an adult rabbit nibbled too, so still I almost missed it. Noisily, the cardinals, nuthatches, chickadees, titmice, and finches flutter around the feeder. Pichickory-pichickory-mew-mew, call the goldfinches. A Carolina wren sits in a ray of sun on the hummingbird feeder pole, singing his exuberant heart out. With uptilted head, open beak, heaving throat, and quivering tail, he throws his entire body into the effort of his chee-boogie chee-boogie song. Soon a female joins him. Off they go together for a tryst in the woods. 

All of a sudden the bluejays erupt into raucous warning. Who knew there were so many so near? Such a flurry in the grass and trees as everybody disappears, and sure enough, a broadwinged hawk soars overhead. I love the bluejays for their vigilance. They are to bird world what journalists are to ours. The hawk whistles and disappears too. Quiet returns. 

In the Wayback, a large branch cracks and falls through the trees. Frightening sound.  Probably a result of our recent heavy rains. I'll investigate when I take the compost out later. Now the crickets begin to buzz, and the mourning doves coo in the distance—lazy summer day sounds. The sun emerges above the canopy, making it suddenly hot. Time to get this day started. 

Usually, I try to choose the single most significant observation to blog about. How could I have chosen today?  dkm

The Coolness of Dew

It's the grass this morning—the lowly grass of home—and the way the dewdrops cling to it. In places gray, in places green—odd patches of color—accentuated when viewed at a slant from a ground level seat on the front doorstep. Quiet. Comforting. Cooling. Inviting.

The sun is not yet above the eastern canopy, yet the day is already warm. After an invigorating walk with the Ya-yas, I'm drenched in sweat—and hot. The grass is covered in dew—and cool. I want to roll in it, but what would the neighbors think?

Moe often tells me he loves to walk through the wet grass in his bare feet when he goes out for the morning paper.  He says its a nice way to start a day.  I try it. He's right.

Now I really want to roll in it. Still, I resist. If I ever saw any of my senior neighbors prostrate on their lawn at dawn, I'd call an ambulance. I envision protesting to the EMT, "No really, I was just sweaty." So I content myself with imagining. dkm

Two in Three Million

It was a soul enriching vacation. Tourists we were, with little time to sit, to be, to reflect; yet awe and wonder is what Moe and I experienced every day we spent in the natural ecosystems of Colorado and Wyoming, even with other tourists around. 

After our nephew's breathtakingly memorable wedding on a big flat rock overhang on Shadowcliff Mountain, above Grand Lake, Colorado, in a wind so high we feared the bride and groom and minister might be blown off their rock, we took a leisurely two-day drive through open range and sage brush flats,

   

toward Jackson Hole and the fabled national parks of northwest Wyoming, Grand Teton and Yellowstone. In the Jackson Hole area we stayed for eight days in a one-of-a-kind B&B inn, Becker's Teton Treehouse, hand-built on a mountain side, in a lodgepole pine forest by the innkeeper himself from lodgepoles on the property. Built on the ground, yes, but 95 steps up the mountain from Heck of a Hill Road, above Wilson, Wyoming. 

For guests, the steps are the only access to a house so tightly surrounded by trees that from no single vantage point could you see the whole thing. Having six guestrooms on different levels, unique interior stairways, and multiple balconies in the treetops, it's like The Swiss Family Robinson treehouse, only it has way better amenities. A real storybook adventure. 

Each room is named for a different bird, native to the lodgepole forest. Our room was The Hummingbird.

Aptly named. Rufous, Broadtailed, Caliope, and Black-chinned hummers came to the feeders all day every day, dive-buzzing around our heads on the balconies. Of the four hummer species, the Rufous males were the most aggressive, and exciting to watch. They almost looked like furry rust-brown bats, and I thought at first they were, until I got a close-up look at them at the feeders. Since we only see Ruby-throats in the southeast, these hummers were a grand unexpected pleasure and only the first of many during our eight day stay, making me itch to return to blogging. 

This is probably a female Caliope, but not sure because the females all look alike.

The second pleasure was meeting the innkeepers, 

Denny and Sally Becker.

He, a former wilderness guide and artisan builder; she, a former school principal and artisan baker; they were so knowledgeable about how to navigate the touristy areas of Jackson Hole, Grand Tetons, and Yellowstone, that we never once felt overwhelmed by crowds. Quite the opposite, we felt among a privileged few who had the opportunity to experience that magnificent landscape in a unique and special way via the able direction of a seasoned guide, all the while knowing we were were really just two of the three million annual visitors to the carefully preserved ecosystem. More unexpected pleasures of the Wyoming landscape in upcoming posts, with high hopes to stay more regularly at it, for a while at least:-). dkm