condo updates

there is now color on the wall folks, bright and cheerful color, stamping the new place with our story! we had started out so passionate about our choice to buy a condo, versus a house in a neighborhood with a yard large enough for a dog. if we knew how much stress, additional money, physical labor, negotiations, unreturned phone calls from paid contractors, and again more stress that would have been involved in this whole buying process, i think chuck and i might have just stayed in our apartment for the winter. yet there is something in me that aches to paint bare walls, our walls.

our downtown is an eclectic mix of 1800's architecture, completely unaffected by time and these harsh winters. the streets are brick, and there are conscious raising short films projected on the side of our tall 7 story building. locally crafted adirondack chairs sit low in random beautiful nooks, facing details of ironwork or masonry or statues. the ground level windows are mostly empty except the few business visionaries who have known the aesthetic, historical value of the gulch before their profits caught up with their dreaming. there is a knitting shop that serves cookies and teas, their walls lined with the most richly and deeply dyed yarns, such a visual feast. there is a children's toy store that can not possibly be making enough money for the owner to live comfortably on profit alone, but she is still standing strong so not to associate childhood with the plastic, blinking chaos found inside a big box toy store. her's instead is full of costumes and books and wooden toys and german kettler cars and scientific experiments and field guides. there is an imported textile gallery, who opens only by appointment, the large turkish, persian rugs rolled up and stacked against the walls. i have never had the opportunity to enter the store, but i imagine it smells like natural fibers and cultures where artists work long hours with their hands. i imagine also deliciously musky smells and rope that ties in place large ink-stamped insignias on thick unbleached paper. there is a local art gallery with pieces that are so unique that i vowed to return some day to by the 1500 dollar coffee table that rests on asian curved legs, low to the ground so sit around its large perimeter, so to truly talk and laugh and engage with one another instead of watching the t.v. there is a candy shop that has been in business for somewhere around fifty years, long enough to really perfect their recipes. there is a large glass display case filled with chocolates, fudges, cookies, and candies, all made there in the store in the early morning hours when most people are still sleeping. there are always children's finger and face prints along the bottom of the glass. it has an original jukebox.

we were so excited to move downtown. we were excited to be part of this "urban" renewal. we were excited about taking up less space, driving our cars less, using the same buildings that are at the cultural heart of this mountain town. we were excited about joining the movement to bring businesses back to this spot just ripened with potential, its success open to anyone willing to roll their sleeves up and pluck. in this location, chuck plans to finally join the local environmental nonprofits, and i plan to volunteer with the local historical nonprofits, so drunkenly in love with helena's history and the strong visual skeleton of what was and, only in the matter of time, will be. we were so content with our decision.

and then happened the loan process, hud regulations, the contractors, the contractors leaving town unexpectedly, the t-bar ceiling removed to discover large holes with concrete stalactites hanging into our kitchen space, the ripping up carpet, the breaking apart of things, the de-construction of what we had just signed the next thirty years of our life to. it has been exhausting and terrifying! we have slept little in the past three weeks.

but yesterday, yesterday we painted. chuck did much more than me of course, while i stood back to marvel at the color, the color on OUR walls. the color that so brightly cheers up the place. the color that looks so perfect in the same visual space as our mountain, with tiny houses clinging to its slope like a european village. this color frames this magical scenery outside our window. this is the color of the energy that is blowing through the gulch, the movement to bring people back to this building, this downtown. it is the colors of outdoor markets and spices as old as time, the crowded vending that will be lining these streets soon. this is color of seasons changing and fresh mountain air and cooking dinner for loved ones visiting from far away and those dear friends yet to meet. this color reminds me that we are home!