Camp Muncie

desperately seeking storage!

2008-03-23T18:35:00.002-05:00

So much stuff, so little space....

We love our riverfront hideaway...unfortunately, there are very few places to hide away our extra stuff. We have exactly two closets in the whole house, and one of them is actually our laundry room with a curtain rod.

And now the clutter seems to have reproduced...and reproduced...and reproduced.

Janie has decided to repurpose our crawl-space-like attic into something big enough and accessible enough to stow some of that crap away. This is easier said than done, given that we need to lay down some floor boards of some kind and attend to what seems to be excessive heat up there. We'll be looking into some attic ventilation and fan options, since it's become quite apparent that the existing vents aren't going to be enough.

Of course, there is always the option of doing some spring cleaning...but who wants to do that?!

It's been a while...but I'm back!

2007-10-12T10:40:00.000-05:00

I'm back!!!

After an auspicious start to this blog -- and to my enthusiastic, albeit tentative, projects in and around the house -- I all but abandoned the whole thing over the summer.

Why?

Well, three days after spending $700 and 15 days in a row building a garden -- marking and digging a 25' X 12' kidney-shaped space, filling it in and raising it with 100+ 40 lb. bags of topsoil, amending the topsoil with 20 bags of peat, and planting a couple dozen perennials of varying sizes and types -- I got a hastily-organized, poorly-written report purporting to be from a local developer interested in buying all the houses on the block for redevelopment into a shopping/office/condo mega-complex.

So here I am, a first-time homeowner living in my dream house, having just completed my first substantial project done completely on my own...and someone wants to bulldoze my piece of the American Dream, along with my whole neighborhood, for condos and shopping.

Never mind there's already condos across the street, and offices/shopping across the major thoroughfare a block away.

Never mind there's a huge upscale riverfront condo development being built less than a mile downstream from where I live.

Never mind there's another shopping/office/condo triad planned for the major thoroughfare three blocks away (which crosses the other major thoroughfare).

So there I was, reading a report offering me twice the value of my house, a lengthy (and free of charge) move-out period after closing, additional payments "for my trouble," and relocation assistance -- and my response was to cry, and then fret for weeks, over the seemingly-impossible task of finding a place that could offer even 10 percent of what we get from living in the house that we know and love as Camp Muncie. But I held out hope that few, if any, of our neighbors would agree to sign their homes -- and our entire riverfront neighborhood -- away to big business.

By the way, big business here in Indianapolis doesn't get much bigger than Simon and its ever-increasing collection of malls and lifestyle centers across the country. And as one of my neighbors said, if Mel Simon wants our land, he'll get it.

So we spent our summer looking at real estate listings, driving past houses we liked, and finding out what we could from the neighbors on the block, and from the people living in the condos across the street. Simon, along with the developers they were working with, were wooing the people in the condos much more seriously -- instead of a haphazardly-presented description stuffed into our mailboxes by a kid just out of college, the people in the condos got organized reports, a few meetings with developers' representatives, and regular letters on official letterhead. They also got official contracts, and word had it that a number of them had signed.

Meanwhile, the Indianapolis Business Journal published a story about Simon's plans and residents' reactions, focusing on an 80-something woman who has lived in her condo since it was built in the early '80s saying she wouldn't sell for less than $2 million. By the way, there wouldn't be any eminent domain -- if Simon didn't get everyone in the condos, they wouldn't extend their pursuit to those of us living along the river, and would actually abandon the project.

Fast-forward 4 1/2 months. This story has a happy ending!

The IBJ's real estate writer posted in his blog the other day that Simon has indeed dropped its bid to buy the condos...and, in turn, its pursuit of my American Dream..."for now." I'm sure Simon will be back at some point, and if not Simon then someone else. But at least for the foreseeable future, Camp Muncie and the other cottages in our neighborhood are no longer endangered.

Now, it's back to work. I've added to the garden, painted my home office, and made plans for painting the inside of the rest of the house. We'll also finish painting the trim and gutters outside, now that it's cooler. I do have pictures of the garden and my office, which I'll post sometime in the next few days.

It's great to be back!

Spring has sprung....

2007-04-02T19:29:00.000-05:00

It's been a while....

Since my last post, winter did finally arrive at Camp Muncie. And when it did, it stayed. And stayed. And stayed. Come to think of it, between the beginning of January and the beginning of March, there wasn't a single warm spell. Not a one. Add to that a 12-inch snow, followed by another 4 or 5 inches, and another couple inches here and a couple inches there, and there was no way for me to do the walk-through of my what will eventually become the new bed that I've been plotting for the past several months.

And wouldn't you know it, now there's six inches of water standing in the back yard, courtesy of the flooding rain we had a week and a half ago. But hey...six inches is actually progress; this time last week, the water was three feet deep and I was kayaking through our eight-cottage enclave.

Hopefully, this time next week the water will be gone and the yard dry enough for me to get back there, take my measurements, and get ready to dig. In the meantime, I got the side garden weeded and mulched, and have made a date with myself to re-do parts of our cobblestone walkway once school's out. I had toyed with the idea of picking up some paving bricks at Lowes or Menards, but have (wisely) nixed that idea in favor of some good old fashioned scavenger hunting for the old stuff. Roughly 50 circa-1900 bricks, to be exact. Some of the bricks that we've found here and there along the river have the name of some foundry in Brazil -- Brazil, Indiana, that is.

I would love to know what kinds of "lives" those bricks have led in the years between their birth in Brazil and their current forlorn existence in scattered, abandoned piles throughout the woods next to the river. I know that there were once several other cottages in the immediate area that, one by one, have been torn down over the years -- and based on my own house's brick foundation, I can reasonably guess that at least some of these bricks came from those old cottages. But somehow, I don't think that explains all of these bricks.

For any of you reading this...is there any way to track down the history of a single brick, or a group of bricks? I'm dying to know....

gardening in December?

2006-12-29T20:23:00.000-05:00

What I meant to say was "raking leaves in December"!

Actually, I got 99 percent of the leaves raked in late November, after it finally quit raining. But there were a few...try several dozen...strays from the neighbor's yard that had fluttered into the courtyard with the most recent wind-storm. And since it was warm-ish and quite sunny today, I raked them. And with that, that should be it for the leave-raking for this year.

To tell you the truth, I really don't mind raking the leaves all that much. I'm sure a lot of that has to do with the fact that this is my first house. Seriously, yard-work of any sort gets me thinking about things I can do with my .38-acre patch of the American dream. Since this particular piece of land lies in a wooded floodplain, I necessarily must start by considering what I can't do:

Terracing. The slope from the river bank to the house is too gradual.
Planting at least 70 percent of my most favorite flowers. They happen to be the ones that demand full sun, and at best I have a 2' X 3' corner that just barely qualifies as "partial shade" -- for about three weeks in late June/early July.
Planting a full blanket of grass in any less than 3-5 years. Too much shade, too many bare spots, and too much bad luck with rain/wind cycles (even with the requisite cultivation of the area, followed by just the right amount and distribution of straw on top of the grass seed). I'm just going to have to be patient.

I've decided that for this coming spring, I'm going to adopt the "if you can't beat 'em, join 'em" approach and convert a particularly stubborn dirt area straddling three close-together trees into a landscaped area with mulch and some strategically-placed hostas, lobelia (AKA the "cardinal flower") and the like. The people living in the houses along 80th St., between Keystone and Westfield Blvd. -- a far more shady area than my neck of the woods -- seem to have been quite successful with this approach.

And I've resolved, for 2007, to do a better job of taking my camera with me on my walks, so that I can take pictures of yards I like.

That's actually the easy part. The hard part is going to be getting the resolve on those drizzly, blustery April days to get digging and making this envisioned shade garden actually happen.

As I mentioned before, there are a few garden spots already present in my yard. But all I've done with them is tend them -- this would be the first garden area that I plan, design, prepare, and plant all on my own.

I've got my fingers crossed that it blends in respectably with the spots that previous owners created! :)

A short history of Camp Muncie (if I don't ramble too much!)

2006-11-05T11:04:00.000-05:00

Two questions that first-time visitors to our house often ask...

"How did you find this place?"
"Have you named it?" Then, before we can explain, "Why Camp Muncie?"

Answer to Question 1....

By pure chance -- and lots of luck!

We had been looking at houses for the past month, and had thought we'd found "The One" -- a charming '50s rambler with a large, wooded lot and an attached garage that had been converted into a rec room. Since Janie has lots of experience with a wide range of DIY projects, the prospect of renovating a fixer-upper that needed quite a bit of fixing up was a bit daunting -- but not enough to scare us off. What did break the deal, though, was the fact that the utilities had been turned off for an unknown length of time. No utilities, no home inspection -- at least, no possibility of a comprehensive, accurate inspection. Since we already knew that the house needed a new roof and a complete kitchen remodel, we opted not to take our chances on possible repair or replacement of heating and plumbing systems. We wouldn't have known one way or the other until after we'd bought the place and had the utilities turned back on.

By this time, our real estate agent knew what we were looking for: a ranch or bungalow with "character," with a good-sized lot and plenty of mature trees. So she got online and did a search for similar houses in our price range on the northside of Indy -- specifically, Washington Township. The following weekend, we visited four houses: an adorable ranch with vaulted ceilings and a fireplace, a house in a neighborhood with "character and personality," another house in a not-so-desirable neighborhood (no problem with crime, just a bit run-down and prone to flooding), and a riverfront house that I'd seen online but ruled out because it was pink and because the image used with the MLS listing made the place look like a trailer.

We both liked House #1, but were hesitant about it sitting so close to a relatively busy two-lane road. House #2 was so unappealing from the outside that we didn't even go in. House #3 was nice, but not in the right neighborhood for us.

And House #4, the pink "trailer"? Love at first sight.

That was before we'd even pulled into the driveway. To get to the actual driveway, you have to go down a long, gravel drive shared by people living in six different houses; at the bottom of the main drive, it splits into several forks. With it being the beginning of March, the area was rather sparse-looking -- but we knew that come spring, the tall and wide trees would supply canopy after canopy of beautiful greenery. Things got better when we pulled into the driveway and saw, not a pink "trailer" but a brown house with beautiful cedar siding, a large shed with matching siding, a charming cobblestone path, nicely-arranged yucca plants and shrubs, several garden areas, and a few well-placed trees.

One of us -- I can't remember who -- said at this point, "I think this is our house!"

Once we walked in, and saw the plank-style hardwood floors and beautifully-done pine trim in the spacious and airy kitchen, we both enthusiastically decided that we would make an offer. With each room we entered -- the living room with its cedar planks along the ceiling and nice view of the river and its rocky banks, the bathroom with its sauna-style walls, and the middle room with its large built-in bookcase -- we found ourselves more enamored by the minute.

Don't get me wrong -- we also made note of several "fixes" that would need to be made. But unlike the house we'd considered previously, these were more cosmetic and functional than anything else. That nasty pink, which it turned out was only on the parts of the house closest to the river, could be painted. Cheapo-basic appliances, fixtures, and cabinets could be replaced. Missing steps off the sliding-glass door could be built.

We had found our dream house. Even more inviting was its paradoxically out-of-the-way, yet in-the-middle-of-everything location and setting. Unless you've specifically been directed down that long, gravel drive, you would never know that there's an enclave of eight riverfront cottages sitting within walking distance of an upscale shopping mall and satellite stores, and equally well-kept houses and condos sitting along what looks like a country road. And this is all within the Indianapolis city limits; by the way, Indianapolis is the 12th largest city in the country.

Answer to Question 2....

After learning more about the house, and about cottage culture in general, we decided that the house needed a name. While mulling a few generic, bordering on cheesy, possibilities...all of which included the word "cottage"...I abruptly, and a bit self-consciously, mumbled "Camp Muncie". Janie, who was driving and had her attention on the road, asked me what I'd just said. More confidently, I repeated "Camp Muncie. A name...for the house!" Janie then said, "Yeah! I like that! Camp Muncie!" And I said, "That's it, Camp Muncie. That's the name of our house!"

To fully appreciate the name "Camp Muncie," you would need to know that Janie and I are both Ball State grads, that we were there in the late '80s when both the university and the surrounding neighborhoods had a certain enchantingly "underachieving, yet sentimentally lovable and full-of-character-and-personality" aura about them. Just like the house. Mind you, our house is a far cry from the run-down, often chaotically-divided house-apartments we'd both lived in during our student days -- but the house has enough of that aura of "possibilities" that's reminiscent of off-campus houses in Muncie that the name fits, and fits proudly.

We haven't done all that much with the house in the year and a half that we've lived here -- but we have painted over that yucky Pepto-Bismol pink with a much more flattering hunter green. It looks so much nicer from the river; we do get plenty of traffic from small fishing boats, jet skis, canoes, kayaks, and the occasional pontoon boat.

Here's the "before and after":

As you can see, we still need to finish painting the trim -- but at least the place looks a lot more respectable for the folks cruising up and down the river. And, of course, for us!

This, by the way, has been my very first home improvement project -- and, appropriately enough, I suppose, for my first home. Since I've discovered that I'm pretty good at painting, I'm looking forward to painting my office as soon as I have some spare time.

Cleaning up for camper check-in

2006-11-03T22:43:00.000-05:00

Camp Muncie is officially a big, huge mess!

But it's a beautiful, awesome big, huge mess. The holidays are fast approaching -- and if we're going to show this place off as the fabulous cottage by the river that it is, we're going to have to get busy.

See the pretty picture? That's what Camp Muncie looks like in mid-May, when everything's green, and clean, and airy. Since the weather's nice, the temperature's just right, and the mosquitos and carpenter bees haven't yet invaded, cleaning is a snap. But keeping Camp Muncie up in late October and early November is an entirely different story!

Outside, it's leaves, leaves, and more leaves. Leaves blown between the storm door and the wood door. Leaves about 6 inches deep on the walkway. Leaves tucked into the corner of the deck, where the broom couldn't quite fit. Leaves where I'd swept the deck clean only the day before yesterday. Yes...the day before yesterday -- but you'd never know that I had spent the better part of an hour sweeping, and raking, and wheelbarrow-ing.

Inside, it's clutter, clutter, and more clutter. My papers. Janie's papers. Our clothes -- folded and stacked on top of dressers, chests, chairs, and a couple of other flat surfaces, because neither of us has been especially inclined to finish putting them all into our respective closets.

This blog is going to tell -- I hope! -- the story of Camp Muncie's semi-miraculous transformation from a relatively sparse "campsite" to cottage living at its best. This place will never be especially fancy -- and really, the best camps wouldn't bother with such silly pretensions. We're much more interested in helping this place on the river show off its natural rustic beauty and charm. With, of course, a little help from our friends, human and critter alike.