Fireplace Freshness

Back with another painting post. Between yesterday’s post on the foundation, and previous recent posts on the radiator, the garage + garage door, the glassblock window frames, the striped stairs, and the Orla Kiely napkins I’m up to my eyeballs with the whole painting thing, especially considering how much I dislike washing paint brushes, even if I have been employing the vinegar tip that I wrote about.

This time around, the fireplace was the target. The hearth, actually. It was filthy. It was peach. Or tannish. Or actually very much like my natural skin tone. Peachy.

How did I manage to leave it chipped-paint-my-skin-tone-peach (with fire singes) for 2.25 years? Unknown. Even Pete regularly reminded me that the only thing I had to do to the fireplace was paint the dirty base, and he was right, because I had let it go… slash ignored it… for much too long.

I had painted the brick encasement within the first 10 days of moving into my house. And I told you about that too, so go here if you want to read about that.

But this time, it was the peach I was after. And you know how much I love using paint that I already have on hand, so it’s probably no surprise that I used some of the last of the porch and floor paint that went down both in sunroom, basement stairwell, and front entryway, as well as on the stair stripes last month. How stinkin’ resourceful am I?

Turns out it looked pretty great on the brick hearth too. No shockey.

It took two coats, and as you could tell I only taped around the outer edge of the brick to protect the hardwoods. It turned out lovely, and so far so good when it comes to dog toe nails scratching it up.

We haven’t done anything formal to cover up the flue that lets ash fall down to a trap in the basement, but the gas lines from the insert are still tucked in there, clearly marked (and now safely capped). To cover up that access point, I’ve resorted to rotating different decor pieces into the space. Like a Pottery Barn serving platter. Or a basket of driftwood.

Or both, stacked.

Maybe someday to be replaced by logs or books or candles or a little jungle of potted fireplace plants. But for now, and maybe through the weekend, driftwood reigns.

I haven’t painted the inside wall brick yet because the post-fire ashy color conceals most of what I didn’t like about the original brick; plus, I haven’t bought high-heat paint yet to do the trick, which also reminds me to admit that I’m fully aware that this floor paint won’t stand up to flame if I ever decide to light ‘er up, but at least it’ll be easy to refinish if it ever needs it. And even if it gets ragged out by natural wear and tear, at least the gray fits in with the house better than peach.