I happened upon this house as I was driving around the Chestnut Hill neighborhood of Philadelphia. It was set way back from the street and looked very unkempt, neglected and to some even haunted. Many of the doors were ajar, and there were living and deceased inhabitants of the winged and furry variety. The paint and plaster were hanging and dropping like snow. There were big gaping holes in the walls and leaves blowing through the hallways. There were no bathrooms, and the kitchen cabinets were sliding smoked plexiglass! The courtyard was just an enormous expanse with broken asphalt and it was dotted with hundreds of dead boxwoods. I LOVED IT! I had an overwhelming sense that this place would be my home and my canvas. Jeff was slightly less sure, but deeply enamored by the construction. The entire house is stone, steel and poured concrete, straight as an arrow and built like a parking garage. This he loved! We have worked tirelessly and will continue to do so, as the house is an ongoing labor of love. Together we have painted walls, selected tile and planted seeds. Upon removing dead leaves and weeds we unveiled fountains and stone walls. I personally demolished part of the kitchen with a sledge hammer and the will of a stubborn Irish/Italian girl. Over the years the house has become our home. It is filled with memories, love, coming of age, heartbreak and all the components that make up the life of a family. There is so much more I would like to do here. So many more memories to make.
