I had always imagined a flagstone path winding through the entire garden, a walkway beginning near the front garden and its tomato trellises, passing through the raised beds, continuing along the blackberry and cucumber trellises, and finally ending at the fire pit. It would be a long and beautiful path, but the cost of using real flagstone was far beyond what I wanted to spend.

So I began looking for another way to create the look of stone, without settling on the cookie-cutter shape of store bought pavers. I decided to make concrete stepping stones using handmade molds shaped from aluminum roof flashing. A roll of flashing cost only about $20, and it turned out to be the perfect material: inexpensive, flexible, easy to cut, and reusable.

I cut the flashing into strips approximately four inches wide, and various lengths. To create each mold, I bent the strips into the shape I wanted and secured the ends with a standard paper clip. I made every stone individually, reshaping and reusing the same pieces of flashing again and again. Most of the stones were inspired by the irregular shapes of natural flagstone, but some became more playful. I made small hearts to scatter along the path, adding unexpected touches of whimsy among the more practical stepping stones.

For each batch, I mixed concrete in a five-gallon bucket and poured it into the flashing molds. I worked the surface of each stone by gently patting it down and lightly misting it with water, helping to soften the smooth, manufactured appearance of the concrete and give the finished pieces a more natural, stone-like texture. Once the stepping stones had dried, the aluminum flashing popped off easily and was ready to be shaped into the next mold.

The path became a slow, leisurely project rather than something I tried to finish all at once. I usually made about ten stones at a time, then returned to the project whenever I had the time and energy. Because the path stretched so far and I worked on it only intermittently, it took nearly two years to complete. In a way, that became part of its character. The path was not simply installed; it grew gradually alongside the garden.

After all the stones had been placed, I filled the spaces between them with a grout mixture made from sand, Portland cement, and powdered lime. I applied it as a powder and then misted it with water when i was ready for it to become permanent. Before the grout set, I pressed small treasures into it: shells collected on trips, shiny glass marbles, pieces of beach glass, and old bits of costume jewelry. I even invited our foster children to add some of their tiny toys, giving them a personal place within the path and within the story of our home.

Today, the finished path is one of the most treasured parts of our garden. It leads visitors from the growing spaces toward the fire pit, but it does more than connect one place to another. It carries the evidence of imagination, resourcefulness, patience, family participation, and two years of small efforts. What began as an affordable alternative to flagstone became something far more meaningful: a handmade walkway filled with color, memories, and a little bit of garden magic.

Where the Garden Begins

The first thing visitors see when they walk through our back gate is a small courtyard at the mouth of the garden, and I wanted that entrance to feel like stepping into another world. The plain wooden fence became the perfect canvas for a dreamy, warm, and whimsical fairytale forest, filled with deep tree trunks, glowing autumn colors, misty blue-gray shadows, and the quiet presence of a stag among the trees.

I painted the mural with outdoor acrylic paint, allowing the scene to unfold across two fence panels. I wanted dreamy colors and dappled sunlight to create a feeling of an enchanted forest at the mouth of the garden, with magical fairytale creatures and our cat Mowgli surveying it all from the trees. Small solar lights along the fence add a soft glow in the evening, making the mural feel even more magical after sunset. What was once an ordinary fence now welcomes family and visitors into the garden with a little whimsy and storybook charm. It sets the tone for everything beyond it: a place where practical garden spaces can also become imaginative, beautiful, and just a bit otherworldly.

Gnome Hollow began as a simple sketch for a firepit at the mouth of the garden, just beyond the fairytale fence mural. Raised herb beds were already in the area, along with flower beds and a collection of garden gnomes but overall it was an underutilized space. A firepit seemed like the perfect addition - a welcoming place to sit close to the house and kitchen while enjoying the garden, the flowers, and the company of our animals.

The project began with a circular stone hearth, but it quickly grew into something much more involved. We began to envision rays spreading outward from the center, creating a sunburst or flower-like design around the main circle, to have a place where we could set our chairs. So we built two reusable molds from two-by-fours and metal flashing, allowing us to pour two concrete sections at a time. This took many weeks. We added powdered concrete colorants in shades of blue, red, and green, giving the rays the bright, playful character that would eventually become the centerpiece.

Once the fire pit and colorful sunburst were finished, we realized we could not stop there. We further imagined extending the design outward with a raised edge and a gentle terraced effect. We wanted it low-maintenance, so tarping the area and adding crushed granite would provide a practical, low-maintenance surface. Little by little, the project began to reach toward the existing flower beds and raised garden beds, and the path found itself winding around the impatiens and toward the gate. And of course a stone path had to fit in here somewhere so we crafted a floral mosaic path leading from the back porch into the space, made from river rocks and flat pieces of flint gathered from the mountain. The stones were arranged by hand to create a natural, flower-inspired design that connects the fire pit with the porch steps. Along the edges, the gnomes have found their permanent homes, standing watch among the flowers, rocks, and lanterns. Later in the project we decided to replace some of the bricks in the hearth with tinted block glass so the fire will cast magical sparks of color when the flames are glowing in the evening. And because it sits beside the catio, the screened outdoor porch we created for our cats, the feline members of the family can join in as we sit around the fire.

Gnome Hollow is now nearly complete, and took most of the summer to build. The space has become more than a firepit. It is a quirky little gathering place, a garden feature, a creative experiment, and a family collaboration of imagination. The crowning touch will be a four-foot concrete gnome statue we have admired at a local pottery business. When he finally joins the collection, Gnome Hollow will feel complete: a place where kitchen herb beds, firelight, flowers, cats, garden gnomes, and family can all come together.

It began with a Facebook Marketplace listing for a free piano, pickup only. We gathered a few friends and family members and set out on the formidable task of moving an upright piano. It had belonged to the seller’s mother and had stood in his childhood home for his entire life. She had taught piano lessons on it to him and to local children, so it had been well loved and well used. After her passing, however, there were no longer any piano players in the home.

We traveled nearly an hour then down rocky country roads to collect it, then somehow managed to bring it up our own rickety front steps and through our small front door. Once it was safely inside, the planning began. I considered many ideas before settling on doves, since birds are a recurring theme throughout our home. In Christian symbolism, doves represent divine presence, gentleness, peace, hope, and spiritual renewal. They also seemed to express the quiet, unseen connections between generations, the people who had loved this piano before us and those who would come to love it after.

The piano’s original bench fabric was preserved, holding onto a small piece of its earlier story. Although its life as a traditional instrument may have changed, its role within a family continued to grow. Today, this embellished piano is the centerpiece of our living room and invites children to explore music and creativity. It has become the piano our 6-year-old foster son is learning to play, once again serving as a place for lessons, practice, and the joyful sound of young hands discovering music. It is a reminder that restoration is not always about making something look new. Sometimes it is about protecting the evidence of a life well lived while allowing something beloved to become useful and joyful once again.

I found this beautiful antique waterfall armoire at a ReStore and immediately stopped to admire its graceful shape. Often called a chifferobe, this style of Art Deco bedroom cabinet was made primarily between the 1920s and 1940s. Its distinctive rounded, stepped top creates the “waterfall” effect, giving the piece a streamlined silhouette while softening the hard edges of traditional furniture. I took a photograph and sent it to my husband, who simply replied, “Get it.” We planned to place it in the spare bedroom we were preparing as a welcoming room for our foster children. I bought the armoire, and the store employees began loading it into our truck. Unfortunately, the door was not fastened closed. It opened during loading, and the antique etched, beveled mirror shattered into a thousand pieces. I was devastated. The beautiful mirror was one of the armoire’s most nostalgic original features, and for a moment, I wondered whether the piece could still be saved. But I brought it home and soldiered on. Rather than searching for a replacement mirror, I decided to treat the empty space as an invitation to create something entirely new.

I have always loved Beatrix Potter and the timeless story of Peter Rabbit, so I chose that as my inspiration. Where the old mirror once reflected the room, I painted a fairytale garden scene featuring Peter Rabbit in his familiar blue petticoat, absconding with a bushel of carrots as he escapes home to his family's big fir tree. The new mural gave this broken armoire a second life filled with color and childhood wonder.

This project reminded me that restoration does not always mean replacing what was lost. Sometimes, it means allowing the wear, uniqueness or imperfections to open the door for something unexpected. The broken mirror could no longer reflect the room, but Peter Rabbit now invites the imagination to wander somewhere beyond it. And now that our foster son is happily living in that very room, he has come to love the story of Peter Rabbit stirring up mischief and losing his little blue jacket in Mr. McGregor's garden.

Some creative projects begin with a practical object, while others begin with a feeling that needs somewhere to go. An old thrift-store tater box sat in our home storing potatoes and onions, but its plain appearance never seemed to reflect its usefulness. One day, I realized that a little deer I had watched grow up along our country road would make the perfect subject, so I painted her image onto the box in a folk-art style. It became not only a useful storage piece, but also a sentimental reminder of a small life I had cared about.

Other projects begin with simple inspiration. While watching Disney’s Frozen with my daughter, I noticed the Norwegian-inspired folk art decorating the castle woodwork and decided to adapt a similar design for our plain, dark fireplace mantel. An old game cabinet became the canvas for two phoenixes rising from the ashes, while collected gnomes have received makeovers with polymer clay, air-dry clay, and acrylic paint. We also enjoy painting rocks, canvases, thrift-store finds, and almost anything else that seems to be calling for a little attention.

Refurbishing old wooden pieces from the 1960s and 1970s is especially satisfying. Many of these solid-wood treasures end up tucked away in closets, garages, or household storage, waiting patiently until inspiration and a creative craving comes along. Together, these little pieces reflect the joy of noticing what could become more beautiful, meaningful, and wonderfully unexpected.

A collection of smaller creative projects, unexpected ideas, and second chances for forgotten things, from folk-art animals and painted furniture to unexpected treasures waiting for a second life.