… the Walrus said,
“To talk of many things:
Of shoes–and ships–and sealing-wax–
Of cabbages–and kings–
And why the sea is boiling hot–
And whether pigs have wings.”
Erm. No, actually that’s not the time that has come. My brain just flipped Lewis Carroll-ward when I wrote the subject line. An entirely different time has come.
After 5 years and 4.25 months, the exterior of Ye Olde Wreck no longer reveals any wreckage. The interior, though not cosmetically complete, is entirely livable. Plumbing and electrical are upgraded and working. The roof and foundation are in good shape. The insulation is quietly insulating away. The only thing not close to done is floors, and although I don’t know when those are going to happen, if ever, I’m in no danger of falling through them. And that’s not something I’ve always been able to say about this place.
So … it’s time to adopt the name chosen in a Name That Cottage contest nearly three years ago.
In fact, it’s already done.
In one of yesterday’s photos, ye of very sharp eyes may have noticed a discreet little rectangle on the porch wall. I’d have missed it myself, as I suspect most did. But it was there.
Let’s get a little closer …
Yes, it’s a sign. (Not A capital-S Sign — though I could wish.)
And now up on the porch …
Yes, it is Official (with proper capital-O). Ye Olde Wreck is no more. The cottage you helped me create from the rot, rubble, and rust of Ye Olde Wreck is now Mo Saoirse. Irish for “My Freedom.” It’s pronounced mo SEER-sha (no matter what you’ve heard that actress claim). The name was suggested by Pat, lo those many moons ago.
There is a backup name — Dripping Cedars (adapted from a suggestion by Kent McManigal). And alas, Dripping Cedars is probably the more accurate name, given that the house has three giant cedars around it and they do drip. Constantly. Everything from sap to rain to bird crap. But Mo Saorise is aspirational — a name to live up to.
So that’s it. It’s cap-O Official. And there shall be no more mention of Ye Olde Wreck.
Since somebody’s sure to ask: No, I did not make the sign myself. The pseudonymous Deanna, who owns our pocket-sized liquor store, paints signs for practically nothing during her slow hours. She dashed this off in the time I’d have taken to barely begin fretting about whether I could do the job or whether the background should be green or blue.