Yesterday my husband woke up from a cat nap on this couch (and yes I’m jealous of people who can take cat naps, but that’s another story). He said, “Thank you for making our home beautiful.”
I’ve always enjoyed decorating and I’ve changed my home around as much as I’ve changed hairstyles over the years.
A few months ago, I started thinking about changing this room. There wasn’t anything inherently wrong with it, I just needed a change.
I needed to create a sacred space.
We spend alot of time in this room. It’s fully of beautiful memories. I drink my coffee here in my green chair every morning, I read here, we have long talks, we celebrate here. We have mourned here.
For months, as I would sit here, I would imagine and dream. I would toss around ideas. I would pin them on my Pinterest boards. Some ideas would be fleeting and others would stick.
I’ve done many projects on a whim. This one however was a slow brew, with a gentle steam of little projects that have led to this “almost finished” room.
I started by removing the things that didn’t belong. I considered every little thing in the room and asked, “Do I need you? Do you belong here? Do I want to relocate you, sell you, or give you away?” And the even deeper question, “Does having you in this room make me happy?”
I got rid of nic-nacs, pillow, curtains, and all the kid clutter that had collected in the corner, mostly out of sight, but annoying l the same.
We painted over a pale yellow with a lovely “Comet Dust”, aka “gray”. I adore paint color names and “Comet Dust” seemed peaceful and somehow just right. (Oh and by “we” I mean my son Taylor, because I have a bum shoulder. I basically moved stuff around with my one good arm and a few good hip thrusts).
I had collected some vintage pieces for this wall collage that was in my head and had grabbed a handful of modern frames at Ikea with the intent of filling them. The art pieces in the wall collage are a combination of vintage thrift store finds, two landscapes of the area where I lived as a child that were painted by one of my college art professors, and a few small watercolors that I created
I haven’t painted consistently in a very long time. It was part of my #findinghappiness pursuit that spurred me on to pick up my brushes.
I painted several pieces:
I love ferns. They remind me of walks in the woods as a child.
I wanted one piece to simply be pattern and considered framing a piece of beautiful paper from Paper Source, and then I remembered my rubber pinwheel stamp, so I used it to stamp with watercolor giving it a more organic feel. Mission accomplished, my goal to have a pinwheel feature in a subtle way was met.
This piece started as gold stripes on paper. And then I commented to Amy, “They look like trees.” And within a few minutes they became birch trees.
When I decided I needed a floral piece, it only took moments to decide on a marigold, Mattie’s birth flower.
This tiny dandelion was just whimsical and fun, and I needed to use this frame I’ve had for years to balance out the golds.
Pillows were added, and after a little bit of a challenging hunt, the perfect curtains were found in a box in my daughter-in-loves garage!
I gave my formerly shabby chic coffee tables a fresh coat of solid white paint. I stripped the top of my coffee table, stained and varnished it, and also also refreshed the white legs.
The window above the buffet has previously held a watercolor that I did several years ago. It was time for a fresh painting. Written in the curves of the wave are the lyrics to Oceans.
The finished results of the room are lovely and good, and it does indeed feel like the sacred space I set out to create. I sit here now more than I ever have. But beyond that, the process brought so much happiness and joy to my life. It felt good to feel and create and bring fresh life to this space.
It feels good to have honored Mattie’s life through this room, not just in the little things that quietly whisper the love he poured out on our lives, but also because I know he is proud of me for finding happiness and strength even during one of the weakest seasons of my life.