She Shed

This post was inspired by an adorable little girl in my church.  She has a new “she shed” that’s almost as cute as she is.

Her Dad is an expert rock mason and looks like pretty handy otherwise, and her mother very creative.  They took a tower from a previous play set and cut the legs down to make the house.  They are putting a metal roof on it and some new stain.  Ella wants to paint the inside walls pink so we have to do that and add some curtains and a rug.

And what’s a She Shed without a fancy chandelier?!

This looks like a little girl’s dream.

I told them she needs a sign.  This reminded me of my “play house” (we didn’t have the term She Shed when I was growing up).   I was an only child and there weren’t many playmates around my grandparents house.  You can read about that house here.  I was ‘crafty’ but didn’t always want to clean up whatever craft mess I was working on, so my Grandmother gave me a small room as “mine”.  It was tucked away at the end of a hall and behind the living room.  It had one window looking out on the back yard and an outside door that had a half window next to it opened onto a porch.

My Dad made me a ‘work table’ at just the right height for me and I had some sort of small chair.   I put the table under the window as the lighting in that old house was just a light bulb hanging from the ceiling.  I hung some of my ‘paintings’ on the wall and my Grandmother made me a special curtain for the window.

I remember painting with watercolors.  I probably made a mess and that was likely one reason for me having my own play room.

I could to do crafts, play or whatever and could leave my projects unfinished to go back to later.  And I didn’t make a mess somewhere else.  This was a small room that had basically been used to just store “stuff” and I said it was “tumbled up”.  She and my mother helped me clean it out (probably just moved stuff to another location – don’t remember).

I decided the room should be named “Tumble Inn” so my Dad cut wood for a sign to go over the door, and “I” painted it.

I’m so glad my Dad took the sign down and saved it.  I found it in his workshop after he died.

I still have that sign hanging on the wall upstairs.  What sweet memories.