My house was built in 1902. As Queen Victoria died in 1901, I suppose it is officially an Edwardian, but just on the cusp. Made from a kit, it is the mirror image of the house next door, although time and various paint jobs, add-ons and decorating schemes now create quite a dissimilar appearance.
With both a sun porch and a mudroom (a necessary little porch frequently used throughout winter for galoshes and dirty dog towels), it is cozy and filled with light:
The back door has a doorbell I believe used for deliveries by the local milkman from
the dairy that used to be down the block (now a gourmet grocery).
On the the front curb there are small rings used to tie up one's course whilst visiting neighbors. Our garage could have easily doubled as a stable.
The attic contains various worn leather suitcases traveled to exotic locales more than a century ago.
There are channels built in to house pocket doors used to open the parlor only for "company."
The kitchen counter has a bottlecap opener built in and our original full Victorian bar matches the formal dining area so nicely (moved to Portland from two different aparments in the San Francisco Bay Area including a third floor walk-up) and provides a shelving unit for a full two-turntable DJ setup.
This tribute to my home occurs as my roses bloom, my raspberry bush blossoms and my grape arbor buds. There's no place like home.
Pictured is my tribute to summer--bare legs and a skirt with cute shoes to match, Edwardian style. Maybe she walked through my house almost 100 years ago....
