Story Frame 67 – My 'Under the Appalachian Sun' House

This will be my very own Under the Tuscan Sun house, I thought, standing on the sidewalk looking at the faded old house that was now mine. But then, it’s always about a film’s influence, isn’t it?

That the house was in Asheville – and not Italy – didn’t matter to me. This was my Diane Lane moment. This is where friends will visit, I thought, as happy scenes from the film played out in my head. This is where my kids, once grown, will come to stay. There will be parties and gatherings, with wine and delicious food in the gardens. And maybe this is where I will find love.

The amazing thing is that all of it came true.

It wasn’t a ruin like the one Frances Mayes purchased, but once it was mine I began seeing ways it could be improved. Then I saw some more. And then a few others. Just as in the book, “Give a Mouse a Cookie – or, in my case, a house – and one thing led to another, and another.

But first – as in the movie – there was work to be done on the house. In the coming months and years, every room would be freshly painted. All of the wooden floors throughout the house would be sanded and sealed. The front porch would be sanded, repaired, stained and sealed. 100-year-old interior wooden doors would be taken down, stripped and refinished, then rehung. A simple but glorious outside shower would be installed on the back deck. A half bath would be gutted, then re-visioned into a full “Euro bath” by my visionary artist friend, David Joerling.

The floor-to-ceiling living room bookcases would all be hand sanded, then painted white. Broken windows would be replaced. Appliances would be upgraded. The chimney, ignored for years, would be repaired and a Norwegian Jøtul wood burning stove installed in the fireplace. An unnecessary back porch bathroom would be ripped out and transformed into a yoga and meditation space.

Fences would be installed between the homeless shelter and my house. The exterior of the house would be painted in bright colors, turning her from an old dowager to a ‘painted lady.’ The gardens surrounding the house would be redesigned and transformed with an abundance of new plants, wood chips and flowers. It took a few years, but with help, I pulled it off. Finished phases were celebrated with parties as I filled the house with hiking friends, artist friends and neighbors.

Both Leif and Zoë were by now living more or less independently. And so, for the most of the first year, it was just me and our two dogs, Klejne and Bandit, living there.

We walked everywhere in the neighborhood, getting to know the interesting collection of people living there, even some of the ladies living at the shelter next door. During a chat with the German architect I saw working on the gardens across the street, I spontaneously asked if he had any single friends – someone European, I was thinking (and hoping.)

He gave it some thought and came up a few weeks later with the idea of introducing me to his Appalachian born, rugby buddy, Tom. After the initial blind date, an unexpected and unlikely tale of romance unfolded with beers on the front deck after a day of hiking, candlelight dinners in the back gardens and lazy Sunday mornings with hot coffee and making breakfast in the kitchen together to the strains of jazz. After many years of post-marriage singledom, I was delighted to be in this new phase of life. We had the whole house to ourselves.

And then one day, the phone rang. It was Leif. He’d decided not to return to SCAD after his freshman year and been living with friends in Asheville while trying to figure out what to do next with his life.

“Mom, my roommate situation’s not working out,” he said. “Can I move back in for a while?”

“OK,” I said.

A couple of months later, the phone rang again. This time it was Zoë, calling from Seattle where she’d moved after graduating from university and spending a gap year in Switzerland.

“Mama, I think I might like to move back to Asheville,” she said. “Can I live with you until I find a job and a place of my own?”

“Of course,” I said.

The third call was from my mother, now 92 years old and still living in her condo in Alexandria, Virginia, not far from the old documentary workshop.

“Honey, I don’t think I can live on my own anymore,” she said. “Can I move in with you?”

Well, why not?

As I was renovating the house, family was coming and going, staying, cooking, and eating. The house filled up with love and laughter, food, dogs and moments together. And there were also dinners on the deck and more gatherings of friends.

“What are you thinking?” Frances (Diane Lane) asks Martini, the handsome Italian realtor, during a gathering at her home at end of the film, Under the Tuscan Sun.

“I think you got your wish,” Martini replies, smiling at her.

Frances pauses a moment, looking around at the people laughing and chattering, eating, and drinking in the garden of her renovated house in Italy.

“You’re right,” she says, smiling at what she sees. “I got my wish. I got everything I asked for.”

What are four walls, anyway? They are what they contain. The house protects the dreamer. Unthinkably good things can happen, even late in the game. It’s such a surprise.

Frances Mayes, Under the Tuscan Sun

[Photographs of the house by me.]

Kristin Fellows is a published writer, world traveler, and a well-seasoned documentary film consultant. When not writing, Kristin can often be found listening to someone’s story or behind the lens of one of her cameras.

More about Kristin @ kristinfellowswriter.com