palms in hanapepe

As I’ve previously alluded to, Oliver Fern and I wandered the town of Hanapepe on a humid, stormy morning for the island.

One of our diversions was crossing the swinging footbridge across the Waimea River, which was around the corner from this art deco-looking wall. Perhaps it only looks art deco to me because of the palms and stucco. We’re still trying to decide if we’ll keep the stucco on the upper half of our old foursquare when we remodel, someday. I’m not a particularly big fan of stucco but it’s part of the character of our place and one of the few remaining original architectural house features on our block. Our “Seattle box” is not one of the ornate beauties that predominate around the top of Capitol Hill but it possesses a certain utilitarian old world charm that has always appealed to the farmhouse lover in me. Growing up, I spent hours snooping and hiding in my grandparents’ abandoned farmhouse and fantasized that we could somehow live in it despite the holes in the floor and blue sky showing through the ceilings upstairs.

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