Home in the Highlands

 

LIFE AT WHITE GABLES: THE INSIDE STORY


The Flying Carpet


Livingroomx


Although I’ve penned hundreds of words about the garden at White Gables, I haven’t written much about the house itself and its interiors. That’s because we’ve been working hard to repair damaged walls and floors and deal with a series of surprises that didn’t appear in the building inspection report. The hard work is mostly over and several rooms are finished, but there are still some mysteries to unravel.

For example, why do the lights cut out whenever it rains? Our trusty electrician has investigated thoroughly but can't find the answer. Are there ghosts at work at White Gables? While we await a solution, we’ve installed night-lights in every room - fortunately the power points still work, no matter how long or hard it rains. Torches have been placed in key positions, and in the kitchen there’s a desk lamp on the counter-top so that if the ceiling lights go, I can cook dinner by lamplight! 

But back to the real story. My tale of the first major purchase for White Gables. This is how it happened.

When we moved into the property last December, I found myself with a vast formal living room, 7 metres by 6 metres, with a 5.5 metre (18 foot) vaulted ceiling. Unfurnished, it looked even bigger than it had at the inspections. 


WG Bookcasecropped

For those of you who've read my story, 'A Tale of Two Chandeliers', here's the original chandelier! 
We also inherited the gorgeous oak bookcase and library ladder.


How was I going to turn something that looked like an auditorium, complete with echo, into a cosy sitting room? Yes, you guessed it! Add a rug, a very big one!

But where would I find one big enough for this room, without paying a fortune for it?

I spent hours browsing online before coming across a traditional design in muted shades of grey, cream and blue which I hoped would form the perfect backdrop for my existing cream sofas. What’s more, the price was very good indeed.

Fast forward to Monday morning, 9am. After a weekend of vacillating, I decided to buy the rug. Call me old-fashioned but I never place an order online when there's a phone number I can ring. At the top of the home page, there was a one-800 number operating ‘24/7’.

The voice that answered my call was bright and cheery:

   ‘Hi. This is Brad. How may I help you?’

   His American accent caught me off-guard. ‘You’re American!’ I said, forgetting my manners.

   ‘That’s right, ma’am. You’ve just phoned North Carolina.’

   ‘Oh!’ I gulped. ‘But I’m in Sydney, Australia.’

   ‘Don’t worry, it’s a free call. We have a lot of Australians buying our rugs.’

   I was on the point of thanking him for his time and hanging up. After all, it would be ridiculous to buy a rug from America – the freight alone would cost a fortune.

   ‘Which rug are you interested in, ma’am?’ Brad continued.

   It couldn't hurt to give him the details. 

  'Yes, we have that rug in stock,' he replied. Then he told me the price - it was exactly the same as the amount which had appeared on the website.

  ‘I’m assuming we're talking US dollars here,’ I said. 

  ‘No, ma’am,  the price is in Australian dollars.'

  While I was processing that particular piece of information, he added: 'And delivery is free.’

  ‘Free delivery to Australia!’ I squeaked, having recently paid forty dollars to have a new fridge delivered from twenty kilometres away.

  ‘Absolutely, ma’am. And it should arrive within ten days.’

The deal was too good to refuse, but a little voice in my head was saying: perhaps it’s too good to be true. Nevertheless, I supplied my details, paid by credit card and was informed that a tracking number and receipt would be zooming their way to me via email.

As soon as I pressed ‘End’, doubts began to fill my head. Would I ever hear from the company again? Did it really sell rugs, or was it simply an elaborate scam set up to snare gullible home decorators like me?

Later that day I happened to mention the internet purchase to a friend when she phoned for a chat.

   ‘You bought a rug from America!’ she exclaimed.

   ‘It’s a reputable company,’ I said, trying to convince myself.

   ‘I hope you haven’t bought yourself a flying carpet,’ she tittered. ‘The kind that flies away and is never seen again.’

Meanwhile an email had pinged into my inbox, containing the tracking number. When I clicked on the link, an official-looking page appeared on the screen, announcing that my rug had left the North Carolina warehouse and was already in a sorting centre in Cincinatti. If this was a scam, they’d gone to a lot of trouble to make it seem authentic.

On Thursday of that same week I checked the tracking info again, expecting the rug to be still in the USA, if indeed it existed at all. But the information on my computer screen indicated differently:

        Parcel arrived Sydney Airport 11pm Wednesday.

        Parcel cleared Customs 8am Thursday.

        Parcel with courier 8.45am Thursday.

        Delivery to purchaser by 4pm Thursday.

Impossible! I thought to myself. After all, I’d only ordered the rug on Monday morning. 

At 2pm that day, there was a knock on the front door. Outside, a courier was holding what looked like a dead body wrapped in heavy green plastic. After he left, I dragged the ‘body bag’ inside and set to work with a scissors to cut it open. Finally, the rug emerged, rolled up and folded in half, like a sandwich wrap. I tried to unroll it in the hallway but it was too big.

 

WG Rug in body bagx

WG Rug Foldedx


That night my son and I lugged the rug into the living room, where we unfurled it, stood back and surveyed the purchase.

   ‘What do you think of it?’ I asked him.

   ‘It’s perfect!’ he replied.

 WG Working on Great Room

Here's the rug after we unwrapped it. The folds came out easily.
I took this picture on the day after settlement. It was December 2 
and as you can see, my priority was decorating the Christmas tree rather than furnishing the room!
And there's that chandelier again!


WG with rug 021217.cropped

WG Living room from stairsx

The sitting room with the furniture in place.


When my credit card bill arrived later that month, the first thing I did was to check the amount I’d paid for the rug. It was exactly as specified. No extras, taxes or customs duty.

Lesson learnt: There are still people left in the world you can trust.


WG Christmas and Cody cropped 

Cody gives the rug his seal of approval.  

Postscript: Not long after I purchased my rug, the Australian Government decided to introduce GST for overseas internet purchases under $1000. I’d bought the rug just in time.

And some good news – our trusty electrician solved the blackout problem – it turned out that rats (we like to call them native mice) had gnawed through the insulation around an electrical wire running under the house to the garage. The faulty wire has now been replaced and there are no more blackouts.

 

Deborah O’Brien

24 July 2018


 


Home in the Highlands


LIFE AT ‘WHITE GABLES’


Autumn

 

Autumn tree square

 

After a long, dry summer in the Southern Highlands of New South Wales, I was eagerly anticipating the arrival of autumn. But as March merged into April, the record heat wave continued unabated. Finally, at the end of April, temperatures began to drop and we even had some rain. Great, I thought to myself, autumn is here at last.

But at White Gables it didn't look like a cool-climate autumn at all. Why were my fruit trees still green and leafy when only a kilometre away in the main street of our village, the deciduous trees lining the footpaths were boasting glorious autumnal hues? Had autumn decided to bypass White Gables altogether?

I happened to mention my conundrum to a gardening friend who lives nearby, and her explanation was so obvious I couldn’t believe I hadn't thought of it myself. White Gables is sheltered by a ridge on the coastal side of town – that means the temperature is a degree or two warmer than elsewhere and consequently autumn arrives a few weeks later.


WG autumn 080518

The first tree to realise it was autumn was the Japanese maple on the left. 


When the much-anticipated season finally reached White Gables, it didn’t just sneak in like an embarrassed guest ashamed of arriving late. Instead, it made a grand entrance, transforming the garden into a mass of colour almost overnight. Suddenly the fruit trees glowed yellow and orange, and the rose bushes burst into flower after months of inactivity.


Roses and verandah500

Pink carpet roses are repeat-flowering - just trim off the dead roses but beware of the thorns!


Sasanqua camellias, inconspicuous during the summer, now produced a myriad of blooms. Even the poor rhododendrons, which had barely survived months of heat and drought, started to make flowers. Fortunately, they came to their senses and realised it was autumn, not spring, and they'd better stop flowering and conserve their energy, or they might not make it through the winter.  

Among the fruit trees, the pears were the first to turn golden and lose their leaves, followed by the weeping cherries whose canopies thinned out as their yellow leaves drifted lazily to the ground, forming a rich carpet of mulch on the ground. After that, it was a competition between the apples, apricots, peaches, plums and figs to see which of them would shed all their leaves first.

 

WG Molly autumn

Molly guarding the back door in the shade of the cherry tree.

 

WG Daffodil bulbs 080518

Autumn is bulb planting time.  I bought 100 daffodil bulbs from a lovely elderly gentleman at the local markets,
who was almost giving them away. 
After planting the bulbs under the pear trees
I began to regret I hadn't bought bluebell and hyacinth bulbs as well. Perhaps next year . . .


In the lavender garden the fragrant flower-heads turned a deep blue-purple, attracting a swarm of fat little bees which buzzed from flower to flower with such joyful enthusiasm that they barely noticed WGH* setting up his tripod and photographing them in close-up.


WG Bee and Lavender

 

WG Weeping cherry

Weeping cherry and lavender bushes at the kitchen door.

 

WG White rose and lavender 2 480w 0518

Above and below:  Lavender and rose bouquets from the autumn garden at White Gables.

 

Lavender bouquets

 

 

WG Yellow Rose WG 480w 20180505A

The quintessential autumn rose. Pic: WGH


In less than two weeks it will officially be winter. And if autumn came late to White Gables, winter will no doubt do the same. The preponderance of French lavender in the garden suggests winter might be considerably milder here than the more exposed parts of the district. Although I'll miss the 'mellow fruitfulness' of autumn, I'm looking forward to bare branches silhouetted against a cloudless sky, and early bulbs sprouting from the rich basalt soil. 


WG Mist small

Keats called autumn the 'season of mists and mellow fruitfulness' - he was right!


*WGH = World’s Greatest Husband – it says so on his coffee mug.


Deborah O’Brien

17 May 2018

Read more about White Gables in my Home in the Highlands Blog below.
Just scroll down for:

    Finding the Dream House

    The Secret Garden

    A Tale of Two Chandeliers



Home in the Highlands



LIFE AT ‘WHITE GABLES’


A Tale of Two Chandeliers


All my life I’ve been fond of chandeliers – as a child I even had a miniature one in my dolls’ house! So, last spring, when I spotted the listing for White Gables online and read the description of the living room with a “vaulted ceiling showcasing an impressive glass chandelier to its best advantage”, my heart soared.

Then I browsed the images and couldn’t believe my eyes. The glass chandelier certainly made an impression, but not a positive one. If truth be told, it resembled a piñata exploding over a light fitting.


WG Old Chandelier square 


But apart from the chandelier, the house looked great – a quintessential Highlands home complete with wide verandahs and tall gables. I knew I just had to see the place for myself.

Fast forward to the inspection day . . .

By the time I had climbed the front steps to the wraparound verandah, I was already in love. At the door I gave the real estate agent my particulars and was ushered into the foyer. From there I entered the spacious living room where the aforesaid chandelier was hanging from the 18-foot (5.5 metres) ceiling.

‘What do you think of it?’ the agent asked conspiratorially when she caught me staring at the colourful light-fitting.

As I tried to come up with an answer that wouldn’t offend her, she continued:

‘If this was my house, it would be the first thing I’d replace.’

She was right, of course. On December 1, settlement day, we rang the local electrician but he couldn’t come till after New Year. For the next four weeks, whenever I walked past the chandelier I lowered my gaze. At Christmas I convinced myself it looked festive. But when I took pictures I lowered the camera so that the light-fitting wasn’t in the shot.

I was at pains to explain to guests that the chandelier had come with the house. If anyone expressed the slightest interest in it, I would ask whether they’d like to have it. As a gift. But nobody wanted it. ‘It wouldn’t suit my house,’ they said diplomatically. Or: ‘It’s too big for my place.’

In the same way that I’d scoured the internet looking for the right house, I now sought the perfect chandelier. In the process I didn’t come across anything that looked like ours.

However, we did eventually find a vintage chandelier which was both simple and elegant, with just the right proportions for the room and at a very acceptable price. When the electrician turned up to install it, I offered him the old one for nothing, but he politely declined. I wasn’t really surprised.


WG Chandelier square closeup

The replacement chandelier at White Gables.

What I like about the new chandelier is its subtlety. It doesn’t grab your attention – it just fits comfortably in the room, like a trusted friend.

What happened to the old chandelier? Well, it’s packed in a crate in the garage, awaiting a trip to the recycling centre, where I’m hoping someone will take pity on it and give it a good home.

 

Deborah O’Brien

24 April 2018


Home in the Highlands

 

LIFE AT 'WHITE GABLES'

 

The Secret Garden