A Year on Ladybug Farm - Donna Ball [35]
She moved the furniture to the center of the room and covered it with tarps, then taped down first a layer of plastic, followed by brown paper over the hardwood floors. With the help of a PaperTiger and a spray bottle of adhesive remover, the cabbage rose wallpaper came off strip by strip, and with surprisingly little resistance.
She was thrilled until she realized that underneath the wallpaper was another layer of paper. Newsprint had been used to even out the walls before applying the wallpaper, and it appeared to have been applied with permanent glue. In some places they had apparently run out of newsprint and had used sheets of newspaper—even writing paper—instead.
For a while she was intrigued by the scraps of printing she could make out: July 1921 Chicken House Destroyed by Fire; December 1928, New Fire Engine Arrives, and advertisements for Carter’s Pills and Borax, 20 cents. She even tried to save a few pieces intact, thinking they would make a nice collage or framed artwork for one of the downstairs rooms. But by lunchtime she was sticky with glue and her clothes were splotched with the water she was using to soften the papers, the room was littered with trash, and only half a wall was finished. It was clear to see that the project was not going to be as simple as she had assumed.
When Cici returned from town with a dozen two-by-fours sticking out of the back hatch window of the SUV, Lindsay was relieved to take a break to help her carry them upstairs. “I thought I’d start framing out the closets in that hall between your room and Bridget’s,” Cici explained, walking backward up the stairs with the bundled ends of a stack of two-by-fours in her gloved hands. “The lumber store said they could deliver the rest of the materials this afternoon.”
“Great,” said Lindsay. “I can unpack my suitcases. Of course, now I’ll be lucky if I can even find them.”
Cici glanced into Lindsay’s room as they passed. “What a mess.”
“You’re telling me.”
They placed the lumber in the connecting hall between the two rooms, and Cici wandered into Lindsay’s room to take a look at her progress. “You’ve got your work cut out for you,” she said, kicking away wallpaper scraps as she entered the room. “That underlayment looks like it’s been put on with mucilage.”
“What is that?”
“That’s the glue they used to make from—well, from horses. It’s almost impossible to dissolve.”
Lindsay grimaced. “Terrific.”
“You could repaper it.”
“I don’t want wallpaper. I wanted my own faux finish.”
“Wow, look at that.” Cici bent down to pick up a scrap of paper. “They used old newspapers.”
“Other things, too. I found some store receipts from 1912.”
Cici laughed. “That’s great. I always wanted to paper my walls with my bills.” She bent down again and picked up another paper.
“What’s this? It didn’t come off the wall did it?”
Lindsay turned to examine the paper she held. It was a little battered, torn at the corners, and crisp with age, but completely readable. “Oh my goodness,” Lindsay said, taking it slowly from Cici. “Do you know what this is? It’s a landscape map. A complete layout of the gardens!”
“How funny,” Cici said. “Only this morning you were saying you wished you had one.”
Lindsay gave her a startled look. “You’re right,” she said, “I did.”
“Look here.” Cici pointed on the map, “The paths were flagstone. I bet if we dug down a little they would still be there. And there was a wall around the whole rose garden. What is that—river rock?”
“There’s a stream at the edge of the property,” Lindsay said. “I didn’t know that,