the menagerie
A dog, a cat, and a chicken walk into the yard...
Actually, it's been a few dogs, several cats, and one exceptional chicken, and, contrary to how it reads, this menagerie lineup isn't the start of a joke. Rather it is the start of a time-honored family tradition and a delightful diversion in the form of a quick project. Dogs will always hold our hearts and share our home. Stray cats will always find us, choose us, depend upon us. And our chicken, Freida Lay, well--like the dogs and cats and the parrot who had gone before--we miss her very much, but what joy she'd clucked into our lives.
When I came across these outdoor metal signs, I saw a whimsical, floral representation of our nonhuman kids, past and present. I instantly knew they belonged together, a beacon to the wayward souls who have found, and will continue to find, a quiet, hospitable haven here at the Fitzgerald residence. The only trouble was that the signs were too small to stand out on their own.
That trouble was decidedly temporary.
Items that are shiny and new can rarely compete with an object flaunting history and an air of mystery behind it--something old and distressed and all the more charming for its timeworn imperfections. While these signs aren't genuinely vintage, they do boast an aged appearance. They hint at an untold story, and perhaps one day they will, indeed, carry a tale waiting to be discovered. For now, I simply wanted to make them pop while maintaining their antique illusion.
Using three round, wooden boards, I added just enough color--along with a subtle pattern--to complement the hues in the animal designs and provide some contrast as well. Then came the fun part--the destruction of my brightly painted, shiny and new finishes. With a light touch, I stippled and smudged burnt umber over and around the boards to dull, soil, and age them. Once the metal signs were adhered, I added two oil-rubbed bronze screws to each, and, voilà, after only a few hours of my time, a dog, a cat, and a chicken were already ready to walk into the yard. So, furry and feathered friends, one and all, welcome to our rural utopia, where you will find a safe place to rest your weary heads and where, in time, you will undoubtedly rule the roost. And, with dogged decisiveness, that--I can categorically confirm--is positively no joke.
