I have to get the photos of the attic clean-up on here, don't I? I mean, I want to! Things have just been so crazy. But here goes.
The way in. The attic was built after the main part of the house, when they added to it, so it's accessed through this door in the west bedroom, on the second floor.
Looks all tidy and everything, right? Well. Deceptive.
In we go!
Lots of random.
Lots of who-knows-what, or why.
And while I could stand up, just, in the center section, going down into the eaves required great care. Because:
The roofing nails come through. Ow! Spoiler alert, somehow neither of us gashed our scalps, either day.
In addition to those nails, there are plenty of mystery bits.
I couldn't tell you why those bits of wood are nailed up there, but there they are.
Along the side is what was the original outside of the house.
Dates to 1886-87, by the way. We found the original door knocker, and a note from my grandmother with some names and dates.
Reach carefully back. Some trash, some treasure!
Like the sewing machine.
We found the table for it, too. It's like a card table, but with a space for the machine to slot in.
Look, floor! My aunt recognized the linoleum, or whatever that is.
We're really clearing space now! (Not shown: the west bedroom, getting more and more full of stuff to sort, or go elsewhere.)
And now we tackle the other side.
When I say don't-know-whys, it's not just empty boxes I mean.
Because I can't think why Grandma would have kept a copy of Clinton's impeachment.
On the other hand, I remember this hamper from the bathroom, when I was a kid.
More ... stuff.
Why yes, that is a barrel on the right.
Full of golf clubs and window hardware, of course.
This fan was one they bought when my mother was born, and they were living in North Carolina. Which I can't imagine doing without air conditioning, whew.
And more treasure:
Just a travel case, but filled with my great-great-grandfather's diaries.
They deserve their own entry!
And in the not-so-treasure department:
My aunt found it, and she didn't make me touch it, but she wanted it commemorated. We also found a couple of peach pits, signs of perhaps a squirrel in the attic at one time.
My grandfather was a mechanic, and we found just a few car-related things. Like a couple of old lighters.
More clear floor!
My great-grandfather's trunk from when he was in the Army during the Spanish-American war. Charging up San Juan Hill!
And, perhaps less romantically, Grandma's old typewriter. I'm just showing what we found.
Making space!
Not everything came out, but such a lot did that there's room to organize what's staying.
Including the hamper, for now, anyway.
And the barrel.
It was hot, filthy, and tiring, but so satisfying. Talk about a sense of accomplishment!
