May 23, 2016

Thinking of Teak

I was thinking of teak because I was googling "how best to remove paw prints from oiled wood." Turns out, it's just like getting those drink-glass circles and food stains out. The finest of steel wool dipped in teak oil.

I've not ever used steel wool on my teakwood. I simply dust with a damp cloth and apply oil. I guess there's always a first time. It needs to be done with a gentle, gentle touch. Daunting.

An example of outdoor teak furniture. I don't have any, myself. 


As soon as the orange crop is in, I'll dry the peel from the juiced fruit and make sachet bags. Cats don't like the smell of oranges. I'll hang them under the lamp shades. But wait. The house is full of teak and cats. Cats gotta go somewhere.



When I was a child in Temple Terrace (Tampa) in the '40's, our furniture was teak mixed with rattan bentwood sofas and chairs. Most of the teak was built-in. Breakfast nook, Murphy beds in guest rooms that doubled as library and screened porch, ironing board, bookshelves, kitchen island.

Remembering Temple Terrace in the '40's. 


Mosquito netting hung over my parents teak bed that sat in the middle of the room. The dressers were built-in around the walls as were several chairs and tables. My own little crib also had netting. It was white in a room full of bentwood easy chairs with footstools - with a built-in clothes cabinet and child-sized Murphy bed.

Murphy bed in a nursery. From crib to bed.


I remember that the room had windows on two sides with white organdy curtains. The only place in the house that wasn't palm motif.

A chair like this, in the nursery, looked huge to a small child.


My Dad sold everything after the divorce. He travelled the world. He mined diamonds in South Africa. He settled in Honolulu in the late '40's, renting a house halfway between Waikiki Beach and Diamond Head, from a Chinese landlord who lived in San Francisco, and settled down to life with Bee (1st stepmother) and much later with Kathie (2nd). You know. That neighborhood on the golf course.

...much like the wardrobes in the Honolulu house. 


When I visited, I was delighted to find a house full of teak to compliment a long low home where the living room front-pocket-wall rolled back - opening out to the liane and bringing the outside in. The bentwood had become simple rattan, but the palm motif was in evidence. Some of the tables were elaborately carved in the Asian manner, but most of the furniture (would be called retro, now) was simple Danish modern.

...similar to the simple bentwood on the lanai in Honolulu.


Teak Murphy bed - like the one in Hawaii.


From the time he moved to Hawaii until the day he paid the city of Honolulu the fees to take the electric wires down so that he could move it to the harbor, my Dad built a yacht, the Honey Bee. It was all teak inside and pegged, no nails. The furniture, of course, was built-in. He and Kathie lived there, using a friend's lagoon for mooring. I don't believe that Kathie ever lived with my Dad on land, although he kept the lease on the house until he died.

Not an exact replica, but (thanks to Google) you get it. Imagine red, white, and blue cushions.


The decks were teak as were the outside furnishings. Many canvas cushions. No palm motif, but a nautical themed teak sofa graced the deck of the Honey Bee. The ship would sleep fifteen with no problem. Imagine the sound of the lapping of the water. The smell of teak oil.

Meanwhile, I grew up and got married. Furnished my first living room with Danish teak furniture. Used hand-me-downs in the rest of the house. 1960's style featured lots of slim wood, simple lines, cushions of stripes, chairs to match, and pegged-in coffee tables. By that time, I thought furniture was supposed to be made of teak. 


Mine was the blue stripe. Just like these. 


Our second house had less teak only because of Mother - her furniture came with her - big easy chair, cloth couches, gooseneck rocker. After fifteen years, the teak furniture (except the coffee table) was given to a young couple who loved it.  I did have a teak stereo center, though. And a study lined with teak book shelves. I can remember how well it all went together. At least Mother was not into mahogany.

Imagine the smell of teak oil and books in the study. 

Those were the days of breezeways with teak picnic tables and a rattan swing hanging from the ceiling. Hippie furniture. Lots of poetry written at that table. Lots of books read in that suspended "chair."


I don't believe I ever mentioned taste in furniture before my second marriage, but when the time was right, off to the "teak store" we went. I couldn't believe my eyes. A huge warehouse, filled to the brim with teak and rosewood.

Although, it took several years to find the very pieces that we were looking for, we eventually did. First a bedroom suit, mirrors, a dining table; later end and coffee tables, leather cushioned bentwood teak and reclining chairs, leather on a teak-framed sofa.  After Wayne died I packed up the teak and headed to Tallahassee with it. All but the pegged-in coffee table. I left it there, a veteran of two marriages.
Dining table art, signed by the artist; I am on my second set of chairs. 

Now labeled "vintage" - catalog photo of my coffee table with end tables not shown.



So here I am googling teak and cat paw prints. Most of the articles spoke of retro teak furniture. I don't know what that means. (grin) Nothing retro here. (Sigh.) This is my genuine, original collection! Except for my Tallahassee pieces - a foyer table, again signed by the artist, a guest room bed, high back dining room chairs, and the bookshelf of my dreams.

Bookshelf of my dreams!
 Tomorrow, I have to stop writing about teak and start cleaning it. One perk of having the cataracts was that the little things I could not see did not bother me. Not at all. Now I'm anxious to clean and polish everything. I had a friend once who sold all of her furniture and bought new.  "Teak," she moaned, "is way too much trouble to keep up." I don't know. She didn't mind polishing the silverware.


(Thank you Google Images. I have taken full advantage of your generosity in this piece.)

May 04, 2016

Running My Own Rescue Operation

Photo doesn't show A-line roof or upper shelving.
I just saw a piece about St. Frances Wildlife Rescue on the local news. Each of the women who would not even look at my squirrel cage were featured. The cameras scanned both the inside and the outside of the facility.

I'll say it one more time. Squirrel's cage would have been perfect inside, as it was built to lend itself to shelving and compartmentalization. So much nicer than the little cages the rehabilitators were using.

Never mind. I have shelved the cage (the doors are on either end and you can step through them) and made a wire greenhouse for my rescue plants. The whole thing rolls for easy watering/misting. Porch-loving pets cannot bother the plants and, in winter, houseplant types thrive without even a sheet thrown over. Thank the a-line metal roof that holds the heat!

Surprised? Rescue plants? Yes. I only buy plants that are close to dying and are discounted to give away to whomever will dispose of them at the end. I had saved dozens of plants in the house but, with the coming of the kittens, I gave them to a friend with a sunny south-facing porch.

I also saw the cages that St. Frances was using out of doors. They wouldn't even consider mine - ten times better - rolling and open, it would have been a perfect home for hurt birds. Squirrel did not have shelves, after all. She had limbs!

Never mind. I care about the hurt and ill wildlife as well as the next person, but I'm not going to give St. Frances any donation money. The cage I offered cost a pretty penny to have built and is as good today as it was on day one.

And, notwithstanding the value of cypress wood and chicken wire,  I have my own rescue (not wild but domestic) safe house going on over here. Plants and animals. Doing my part.

Squirrel Mathews 2006-2015

Squirrel was the first. I've had Belle so long, I forget that she was a victim of divorce - homeless. Don't forget dozens of plants, inside the new porch enclosure and, later, outside in the secluded garden. Then, there are the Fab Five. Who knows what next week might bring?

Belle


The Fab Five


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