We are a strange bunch.

We buy houses not for what they are, but for what they can become.

We overlook things like cracked plaster, hideous wall paper, and wall to wall carpeting in colors not known in the natural world.

Instead we talk of the bones of the house.

We run our hands over the original ornate trim work and extol the lost art of craftsmanship. And sigh deeply at how beautiful it will be. You know, once we remove the 50 layers of paint that may or may not contain lead and require a hazmat tent over the house.

We talk of our houses as having soul.

We place all of these things above things other people might find important, such as insulation.

When we are forced to modernize we save the bits and pieces that we can. Even things we know we will never use, it just feels wrong somehow to throw them away.

When I replaced some exterior doors and rotting windows with brand new ones, I could not bear to throw them away. Someone who buys the house from us one day might want them. Maybe they would rather have a $6000 winter heating bill and would welcome the breezes that blow in from the ill-fitting doors than have to look at glaringly modern retrofit Anderson doors and windows. Maybe they would consider that the price you pay for owning a piece of history. Which is how I feel about holding our windows open with sticks, when I can get them open that is.

Jeanne, from House in Progress, wrote:

When I walked out of the house one morning and saw the van from the window replacement company parked on the street at her front door, I hyperventilated a little.

There, on the curb next to the van, were the pieces for nine gorgeous hardwood Prairie-style windows. And her windows were in even better shape than ours. They just needed a tune-up and some decent integral weather stripping.

I know I have found a kindred spirit.

At the Petch House most of the restoration is done by reusing everything and buying mainly from salvage places.

The next issue was the door. I’ve been collecting period Eastlake doors for years, and I actually have more than I need. The problem is, I only have one 30-inch door, and it is majorly funkified. This thing may be beyond repair. The best thing it’s got going for it is the fact that it’s 2 and a half inches too short for the opening. After that, things go down hill quickly. It’s cracked, has chunks missing, and big dings in it. Still, it’s a 30-inch door so I hung it anyway

Hung it anyway. And the house whisperers stand around him and applaud.

I have several doors, an original glass front kitchen cabinet, a claw foot tub, a chandelier, door knobs, hinges, and yes, some windows.

If we all got together we could probably build ourselves a new old house out of all our scrap.

When she isn't obsessively checking out paint swatches, Chris Jordan writes about her life on her personal blog www.notesfromthetrenches.com and an advice blog www.inthetrenchesofmotherhood.com