Having already droned on about our kitchen adventures (See Part 1, Part 2, Part 3 & Part 4], I see no reason to exert myself further, nor the ears and eyes of what visitors remain here. So, without further ado or build-up, here are the Before and After photos of our new kitchen.

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Ever After

On the first day of demolition, the walls came tumbling down. What had divided the kitchen and dining room since we purchased our home was gone. I could be working at the dining room table and see clear through to Andy in the family room. People in the kitchen could talk face-to-face with people in the dining room. But while all this was now possible, it wasn’t quite practical at this particular point. Nothing but bare wood, bare joints, and a bare floor was before us. In the first flush of cold winter weather, a sheet of heavy, dusty plastic was all that kept the outside at bay. It was a dismal scene, but we were both so happy with the space and the removal of that wall that we didn’t care. The excitement of that saw us through the first few days. Eating out was a joy, and since the contractors had moved the fridge and microwave into the family room, we were making do in far easier fashion than either of us expected.

Still, it was not without its drawbacks. There was no sink in which to wash dishes, which made many things more difficult. There was no running water, except in our tiny guest bathroom sink, under which it was difficult to fit a tall glass. When the tile floor was installed we had to stay off it for 24 hours, which split the house in two – Andy in his usual family room wing, and I in the living room faction. We could shout to each other and wave, but to cross to either space we needed to walk outside. Normally not a big issue, but at midnight in December? Dicey.

Soon though, sooner that it seemed possible, things came together. The contractors – the amazing crew from Skylands Services – were excellent. Work continued on-schedule and on-budget. When the first cabinet was installed, we could see through to the light at the end of the tunnel. And once all the cabinets were in, and we had the stone supplier measure the template, the end was clearly in sight.

We stopped by Empire State Stone to map out where the main peninsula countertop would be cut from the piece of stone we had selected. On an ice-laden path, on a bright winter day, we stood outside and placed the cardboard template over the granite, incorporating just a bit of the main black veining to peek out from the sink. Andy held one end and I held the other. In tandem, we maneuvered the outline of what we had been waiting to see for months – years, really. One of the staff outlined the placement, and we held up the other counter template, capturing more of the winding variation that Andy favored. Then it was time for more waiting until the stone was cut. Even that seemed to move quicker than we thought. For a brief moment I felt a twinge of sadness that the project was coming to a close. I knew Andy would miss the activity and excitement and daily dose of fun that the contractors provided. He mentioned that on their last days he felt like he was sending off kids to college. But like those moments, it was for the best. We’d been through an enormous upheaval, and had survived. A little battered and war-worn (recall the poor kid who had lost the tip of his finger on a wood saw), and a little tired and displaced (we’re still trying to figure out where things should go), we made it through the wilderness.

From the stark, white cabinets, and cold gray floor to a warm, rich cherry wood and  warm, clay-swirled tile, from a sterile, manufactured formica countertop to a beautifully-grained natural granite, from a boxed-in divided kitchen and dining room to a united, airy, and spacious space, with room enough for two to work at once, our kitchen had undergone a complete transformation.

We had finally taken the wall down. What was once divided was now one, what was once disjointed and claustrophobic was now flowing and open. Some home renovations test and stress a married couple, some bring them closer together. Whatever the outcome, we had a new kitchen ~ a new heart of the home ~ and, maybe, a chance for a bright new beginning.

I pause at the sink, resting my hands on the soft curve of the stone counter. Outside, a layer of snow brightens the backyard, and I peer through the bush where a couple of cardinals sometimes perch and sing. Across the yard, I make out the faint trail of a bunny that bolted across the space a few days ago. A rough wind shakes more snow out of the cherry tree, and I think back to those September days of planning and dreaming. The pool is covered now, blanketed by snow and ice, and the branches of our gardens are bare and stark, but in a few months it will melt away. We’ll see the dark green and brown of life return, like we saw it on the first night we found our home, when the first whisper of spring tickled our ears. On that March evening we walked around the backyard and made out the faint outline of the pool beneath its ragged cover. We made a covenant with our home then, and began a new life together. I close my eyes and make a wish that spring hasten her steps.

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COMING UP NEXT: The Before & After Shots

[See also Part 1, Part 2 & Part 3]

We knew we wanted something with heavy graining and variation for our granite countertop, not the usual uniform, igneous patterns that might as well have been man-made. At the granite showroom, we found a few pieces we liked of the Yellow River, but they looked toned down. Far more enchanting was a piece with lots of amber and black – called ‘Betulare’ – that was much deeper and more interesting than what we had been looking at, but maybe it was too bold. I thought for sure that Andy wouldn’t like it, that it would prove too brash and daring for our space. But he wandered over and was just as enamored as I was. Sometimes, even after thirteen years, husbands have a wonderful way of surprising each other. We were advised that their stone suppliers had websites, where we could view the actual slabs online, and then pick out which one we liked. We could then visit the supply site itself to see it in person. For such an investment, I reasoned that it would be worth the drive to New Jersey (little else is).

A few weeks later, I got up long before the sun was out and started the journey to select our granite. I knew Andy didn’t want to make the round-trip with his back, so I loaded some 80’s music into the stereo and made a relatively easy trip down. The pieces we had chosen from the online selection needed to be moved, so while we were waiting the woman who let me in – New Jersey from her thick accent to her fluffy fur vest straight off a Real Housewife – invited me to look around with her at the other pieces. Next to our marked lot of stone stood a more intriguing slab – it was the ‘Betulare’ – and this wondrous piece of granite was from Brazil. A dramatic black vein ran through the middle of it, while blossoms of black specks bloomed along the winding rivers of the granite’s grain. That flow was what most appealed to us, and the variation – striking in its non-repetitive non-pattern – would keep it infinitely interesting. It wasn’t what we had ordered, but it was right next to what we ordered, so I took it as a sign. Our original stone was still being moved as we made our way around the rest of the supply room. Slab after slab of enormous rock stood on their sides, revealing all sorts of granite and other stone. There was a stunning piece that was almost entirely a glossy black, cut through with just a few small lines. I didn’t like it, but thought about sending Andy a photo of it telling him I’d make a slight change in plans. (I wasn’t that mean.)

As we came back to our starting point, the stone had been moved, and I could examine the selection we’d made online. In person, it read much flatter than in photos. The ‘Betulare’ to its side was definitely the better choice. It was what I was first drawn to, and those initial gut instincts are what has saved me many times. I took a few photos of it for Andy and told the woman these were the slabs for the countertop. She marked them, I filled out some paperwork, and was back on the New Jersey Turnpike in less than an hour after I got off. (Well, following some Full-serve gas treatment, the pumper of which was none too pleased when I got out and headed toward the pump myself out of habit.)

With all of our materials ordered and set to be delivered, we scheduled the start with the contractors for December. The holidays would be different this year, and though we knew it would be tough, we forged ahead. A sacrificed Christmas this year would make for a better one next year – and, far more importantly, a stellar spring and summer.

{To be continued…}

[See also Part 1 & Part 2]