So with the help of a color consultant, we have decided to exile to the foyer the vivid tangerine we painted the living and dining rooms that first summer in the house so many years ago. The renovation process has long since outrun its initial phase of physical transformation, and we are now engulfed by a wave of symbolically freighted associations whose depth neither of us fully appreciate. It feels like a transition for us as much as it is for the house itself. Nothing is ever simple.

In following the lead of our consultant, we have elected a more mature and less reckless approach. Most everything will be pulled together – instead of bold colors on the walls, a softer vibrancy has ascended to the ceilings and the walls will recede to the background to showcase the art that will hang upon them. While the logic and appeal is undeniable, I fear selecting and arranging books by color instead of substance is not far behind.

The pace of change will quicken over the next few days. The cabinets have been delivered and should be installed soon. We are moving back to Capitol Hill tomorrow and expect to actually be back in the house by Thursday – after spending a few days with our friends and neighbors. In the meantime, here is how things look (though somewhat obscured by the boxes of cabinets).

Wing Attack Plan R has been issued, and there is no recall code. By this time next week, the tangerine walls will be no more.

The floors are fully refinished, and we await the next transformative step…

While we wait for kitchen cabinets, the project has progressed into the surrounding now rather small-seeming area. Built-in bookcases demarcate the dining and living rooms, and a bench along the east wall will afford our friends a seated view into the new kitchen (the panels along the bench are cabinet doors for the lower part of the bookcases).

Being newcomers to this sort of renovation, our wonderment is almost childlike. I have moved enough in my life and have lived enough in forgettable enough places that I don’t have much of a strong attachment to the physical structure where I live (years ago, I was instantly charmed to learn that Camus lived a good part of his adult life in hotels). But seeing the eradication of such familiar, basic and fundamental spaces and their phoenixlike replacement by something altogether new has reordered my domicilic sensibilities. Platitudes revert to insights – you don’t own an old house, you just take care of it for the next person – and my naiveté about the emotional impact of the transformation stands revealed.

Thanks to our architect, one of the built-ins has wine “cubbies” along its sides – house-warming ideas, anyone?

The new pantry:

See how narrow and empty the house looks:

I like the ghostly “art installation” feel of this; it kind of makes me want to leave the space unfinished.

Next up – refinished floors!

Now that the plumbing and electrical have passed inspection, the crew is starting to close everything up. Soon it will be hard to remember just how exposed everything was.

Now that the framing is largely complete, the electricians have been running wires and installing lights. Where once we had a single ceiling fixture (how ever did I manage?), we are now to have battalions of lights that will variously illuminate each stage of the culinary process from preparation to cooking and plating. Evidently the new kitchen will be as defined by lighting as interrogation rooms, operating theaters and stages are. Maybe my crappy iPhone pictures will be improved!