The wonderful sound of rain

I've always loved the sound of rain...but here in Texas, it is even sweeter.

Right now, I'm sitting here on my couch, only feet from the open back door.  As I sort out my schedule for SXSW events, I am listening to the wonderful sound of rain falling on the patio.  It's real rain...heavy, almost-worthy-of-Florida rain.  

And I love it.  

Back in Florida, rainy days were an invitation to spend my lunch hour outdoors under an awning or overhang, watching and listening to the rain while I ate or read or just watched the falling drops.  

Rain is rare in Texas...sadly.  And next to my friends, whom I miss with all my heart, I think I miss the rain the most.  

So it's time to put my computer away for awhile, and head outside to enjoy this treat.  The schedule will wait.  The blog will wait, and even dinner will wait. 

This is Texas, and I need to treat myself to some rare and wonderful rain time!

I have a lot of work today...so of course, I want to clean

It started back in college, I think.  Midterms or finals came around or a major paper was due, and suddenly I wanted nothing more than to clean my room.  And not just tidy.

I felt a NEED to sort through those drawers or organize my closet.  And then there was my backpack.  I'd been meaning to do that, hadn't I?  And my purse, and the car, and....

I wasn't alone in this sudden onset of sorting and cleaning, either.  Even the guys who had lived all semester with a carpet of dirty clothes and secret stashes of petrified pizza under their beds were seen heading to the laundry room with arms full of towels and jeans and sheets they hadn't changed since the school year started.

That same feeling hit this morning as a I contemplated my to-do list.  Lots of documents to process.  Some articles to write and post.  Phone calls to make and e-mails to send.

And all of a sudden, the idea of cleaning my teenage daughter's bathroom sounded like such a wonderful idea.  And then there was the kitchen pantry...hadn't I been saying I needed to reorganize that?  And so it went, as I imagined all the sorting and cleaning I could (should?) be doing instead of the work I had committed to do.

I tried to sit down and my computer and work, but God knew my weakness.  All of those other chores were calling.  I was imaging how I could do both.  Then my connection went wacky.  A program I needed offered me server errors instead of answers.  I knew it was time to walk away from temptation.

So now here I sit, with 5 miles between me and all that suddenly interesting cleaning and sorting.  A datebase I need to transfer is downloading.  E-mails have been sent, and a few more will go out as soon as I finish this post.  The noise and bustle of Panera Bread is nothing compared to the call of "other things I could be doing."  And my work will all get done.

Now if only I had known about this back in college....

2011 -- A Bittersweet Goodbye

It's time to say goodbye to 2011.  And this year, it's a bit harder than usual to say so long to the old year.

It's not that it's been a good year...it's been difficult.  But there were some things in 2011 that are now gone forever, and that makes it hard to crack open the bottle of ginger ale and toast to the new year.

In January, my mom passed away.  Our relationship went from rocky to none, and we never got to say goodbye. She chose to not have me around at the end, and that remains incredibly painful almost a year later.   But even with all of that, I am sad that she will not be on the planet to see the arrival of 2012.  She did a lot of good for a lot of people in her lifetime, and it should have been longer. Knowing that 2011 was the last year she would see makes seeing it go even harder.

2011 also saw the passing of an uncle I had become close to after years of not seeing him,  I am grateful for the chance I got to finally live close enough to feel that we knew each other, but sad that the time was cut short.  He was great guy, with a dry but always ready sense of humor and a love for Hershey Chocolate bars and black licorice.  Like my mom, I wish he was around to great the new year,

2011 was supposed to be the first full year my new husband and I would have together...a chance to learn about each other and build our marriage.  Instead, he had to take a job out of state, while I remained in Florida to ready the house for renters and wait out the school year.  The result was 6 long, stressful months apart.  The coming together again was wonderful, but we are still recovering from each others absence and the unique stresses it caused for each of us.

And even the reunion was bittersweet, because it meant leaving behind my beloved home state of Florida, where I have dear friends, family and a lifetime of memories.  The move to Texas meant no more late night suppers on the patio of Flashback with Polly and Karen, no more snorkeling trips with Jimmy and the rest of JAC, no more lunches with friends from work who had become such dear friends, no more driving past my high school every day on the way to work, no more running into old friends at the grocery store, the mall or a concert.  Yes, change can be good, it's also difficult when it's not chosen.

So forgive me, 2012, if I don't greet you with open arms and a cheerful countdown.  I need to hold on to every last minute of what will never be after 2011 fades away. 

Backyard dreams for Pink Saturday

For the past few months, my husband has been working hard on our backyard. There was tons and tons of decking, covering over half of the yard. And it was all rotting, so up it must come.

He's done a lot of it already...and teh rest is in progress.

But even before the first board was removed, I started recreating the space in my head...

1) It will be green and rich and shady, to make it perfect for an early morning breakfast or a late afternoon cup of tea.

2) It will be welcoming, with comfortable places to sit and secret spots of beauty to discover.

3) It will look as though it has been there for years, growing and becoming. No neat rows of perfectly spaced identical plants.  Nothing that would be called "landscaping" or "shrubbery."

4) But most, most most of all, it will be a place where fairies and other magical beings will feel at home. Where the mere fact that a visitor hasn't seen them is not enough to convince anyone they aren't there.  Instead, they will say... "Was that a glimpse of a wing just around that tree?" Or perhaps,   "Did I see an odd sparkle among those flowers? "


For now it's still in the dream stage.  There are piles of wood, and some still to be removed.  Then there is the ground to level, and plants to buy....

But it's on its way! And that is good enough for now :-)

Happy Pink Saturday!

Anne's House of Dreams...and mine

I can't remember when I first read Lucy Maud Montgomery's book "Anne's House of Dreams."  But since that time, I've re-read it at least 10 times.  Her story of the former orphan, Anne (of Green Gables, for those who did not know that the story continues through several more books), her garden wedding and her sweet house of dreams on the coast of PEI was the stuff dreams were made of for me.

"The first glimpse of her new home was a delight to eye and spirit--it looked so like a big, creamy seashell stranded on the harbor shore. The rows of tall Lombardy poplars down its lane stood out in stately, purple silhouette against the sky. Behind it, sheltering its garden from the too keen breath of sea winds, was a cloudy fir wood, in which the winds might make all kinds of weird and haunting music. Like all woods, it seemed to be holding and enfolding secrets in its recesses,--secrets whose charm is only to be won by entering in and patiently seeking. Outwardly, dark green arms keep them inviolate from curious or indifferent eyes.

The night winds were beginning their wild dances beyond the bar and the fishing hamlet across the harbor was gemmed with lights as Anne and Gilbert drove up the poplar lane. The door of the little house opened, and a warm glow of firelight flickered out into the dusk. Gilbert lifted Anne from the buggy and led her into the garden, through the little gate between the ruddy-tipped firs, up the trim, red path to the sandstone step.

"Welcome home," he whispered, and hand in hand they stepped over the threshold of their house of dreams."

Somewhere deep inside me, despite the plans for career and success in the world, I wanted that home, that romantic marriage.  And I've only now realized, on starting yet another read with Anne and Gilbert and the rest of PEI, that I have it.

No, my home doesn't overlook the sea -- but it's only a few minutes away.  And like Anne's house of dreams, mine is surrounded with huge, lovely trees that make our yard a green oasis that we are in the process of transforming into a magical space. And like Anne, I had my wedding in a garden, then went home with my beloved new husband.

Today, the 6th, is the day, about a year and half ago, when we went on our first date.  Dinner and a movie. Now we are 6 months into our marriage, busy creating our own house of dreams.  Like Anne and Gilbert in the story, we know that this house will not be our forever-home.  But it's a place where we are starting out together. And that makes it a house of dreams.

Maybe Anne's story was just an early 20th century version of a fairy tale. Can a life dream really be based on a fairy tale?  Maybe.  Even Albert Einstein believed in the power of fairy tales, believing them to be the greatest tool for inspiring creativity and imagination and success in young minds.  And who am I, now living my fairy tale, to argue with Einstein?!

A home decorating balancing act

I love vintage furniture, antique linens, old found-objects re-purposed in new ways, cottage gardens and lace.

My ideal room contains filmy white curtains, things that have a history, lots of textures -- a very feminine look.  My new husband is not exactly going to feel at home in that kind of home. Nope....not going to work....

I also like post-industrial, salvaged pieces, like you find at Restoration Hardware....I love the solid wood, the feeling that the pieces have had a life before I "found" them -- a history.

But....

  We've gone shopping to look at furniture a few times now, and he's leaned towards very sleek, modern pieces with no texture or trim -- and certainly, no history.

I know that many of my readers lean towards the same look I prefer.  So I want to ask you -- how do you create a home decor that appeals to your vintage side, while not alienating a spouse who wants a far more modern and unadorned look?

I want to make a home we both will love, and feel "at home" in.....any advice welcome!

Grandin Road's Get the Look - Designers Contest - OlioBoard

It looks so cozy...I imagine a rainy Sunday morning outside....

The people over at Olioboard are having a contest. The winner receives a $500 gift card toward furniture, and I need some furniture! Please come on over to my entry on Grandin Road's Get the Look - Designers Contest - OlioBoard and vote for my Monday Meditation room (my ideal bedroom -- or darn close!), and help me win. Please!

And while you're there, get your account...it's a fun way to try out new looks for your rooms, or just to play!  If you decide to create rooms of your own, post links here so I can see them!

Here are's another one of my designs...not in the contest, but just fun to make....

This one feels very serene....

Finding my colors....

I've been struggling trying to find my colors lately.  No, I'm not talking about deciding which season I am for fashions.  I'm talking about colors for our home.  Right now, the walls are white, the trim and doors are beige and the carpet is oatmeal. Couple that with the brown wood cabinets and off-white counters in the kitchen and you have a color-lovers worst nightmare!  

So I am trying to select colors for every room.  And because it's an open floor plan, I'm also trying to select colors to carry from one room or area to next without too many transitions.  

Then I found Lisa Carke's blog, Polka Dot Cottage, and a cool tool she found called The Color Palette Generator.  And suddenly I had found my answer.  

Lisa's post was about blogging the colours of our homes, using this tool.  But because the inside of my home right now lacks colour, and the outside is the development-mandated poop brown, I decided to use the tool to look at photos of places where I feel happy, hoping to find my the right shades and combinations to make our interior feel that way, too. 

So here goes.  

The first picture is a spot in Elizabethtown, Pa where I could stand or sit for hours just peacefully contemplating the view and life and everything else.

The second is from our wedding in March...the colours we used made me feel happy and hopeful and joyous.

And the third is from a hiking trip to Ocala last November....

Until this point, I had not really consider greens for the interior.  I was learning towards reds, burgundies, and other warm tones.  But the paint chips and samples just were not looking right with the house -- or to my eye.  


Now, I see why!  So greens look like the right choice for this house, for now in our lives.  Thank you Lisa, for seeding your blog post so I could find it!  

Happy to be the Châtelaine

Châtelaine - a woman who owns or controls a house.

The move is almost complete...the movers came on Monday (BTW, NEVER use Father and Son Movers in South Florida! Great employees moved my stuff, but the company ripped me off at the last minute.)

The apartment is almost empty and almost ready to be inspected. The house is now a mass of boxes and furniture in odd places. And I am exhausted. But very happy.

On the drive to work today, I was thinking about arranging things, putting books on shelves, dishes in cabinets and clothes in dressers. Working out in my head where artwork will be hung, and where my scrapbooks can reside. Imaging family dinners in a peaceful and happy space.

So maybe it's not trendy to say that I love caring for a family home. Too bad. I love my job, but I am also supremely content to be the châtelaine, keeper of the home. And I am blessed to have the family to care for.

Going home to someplace you never knew was home

(Written in Elizabethtown, Pennsylvania)

A year ago this past April, I loaded up my car and my two daughters and the most precious of our possessions and left Central Pennsylvania for Florida. I am from Florida. It's the place where I grew up, where I know every road and shortcut and the best beaches and the best places to play hooky from work on a beautiful day (thank you Pam Houston for teaching me how important it is to know where to misbehave!)

I was never very happy in Pennsylvania...I knew that the people who lived here were generally from here and I thought they had no interest in newcomers. I saw the sky as usually grey, and winters felt cold, damp and long. I was glad to get back to Florida, to the land of beaches and palm trees and festivals outdoors all winter long. I've been happy there. My career is doing well, my daughter who faced the challenges of Juvenile Arthritis is doing better and both girls are excelling in school.

Friday I came back to Pennsylvania for my son's high school graduation. He lives with his dad up here. And since I arrived, I've discovered something disconcerting.

This place that I could not wait to leave in the rear view mirror, feels like home.

I am confused.

Or rather I was. As I sat high atop a hill overlooking the green valleys and farm land below me, a cool fresh breeze blowing the trees gently, I realized the truth.

View looking down over Elizabethtown

It was not the place I did not like. It was my life in this place.

When I lived here, I lived in a big 227 year old house that needed an endless amount of work. There were electrical, plumbing, heating and maintenance challenges. There were always too many things to fix to ever allow for spending money on things of beauty or comfortable furniture. The walls and ceiling and floors seeped 200 plus years of dust and dirt no matter how often I swept or vacuumed or wiped or scrubbed.

In the summer the house was hot. In the winter it was cold.

And for most of the time here, I was in a very bad marriage. It was sad and ugly and destructive to my self esteem and happiness. Peace and happiness were elusive.

And last but certainly not least, I was broke and financially dependent.

The combination of all of those factors made me hate where I lived. Made me run as soon as I finally gathered the strength and the money to go.

And now I am back. Visiting. And perhaps finally seeing this place for all it really is instead of as a part of my miserable life.

View from the Masonic Home

It is beautiful.

In my haste to escape, I overlooked so much of the beauty. I turned my back on good friends and even more potential good friends I could not see through my struggles.

For the past three days, I have been the recipient of countless hugs. In stores, restaurants, schools and homes, I have been asked over and over if I am back. Even the woman who handed me my iced tea at Wendy's was glad to see me and asked where I had been.

Without even realizing, I became a part of this town. I had a home. I just never knew it until now.

I cannot regret leaving. I think I needed to go away to find my footing, to understand my strengths and weaknesses and learn to trust myself. I need to go to the place I always thought of as home through all my years away to find out where I already had a home.

Is it time to come home for good?