Saturday, December 09, 2006


There is a particular time of the morning-sunlight when I fall in love with my house, over and over, again. It’s happening right now. The cold winter sun streams in through the large front beveled-windows, and it falls across the back of my grandparent's couch. When I saw this pattern I was immediately captivated. It has a burgundy background with geometric squares and circles woven in plum, olive green, eggplant, and mustard yellow. The upholstery is named, “Sultan’s Dinner Party”. When I saw the patterns name? It didn’t really mater how much the upholstery cost, it would be mine!

After the sunlight touches the jewel-tones of the couch, it hits the warm walnut colored oak floors, and slowly creeps under the moss green couch, circa 1950. I love this couch too! It was an accidental find for $75.00. It’s the best $75.00 I ever spent as a college student. It is slightly elliptical, has a low back, and sits on blond birch peg-legs. Its simple, clean lines, fit my 1940’s house perfectly.

As I often sit here with my coffee mug, a book, newspaper or laptop, I loose my concentration. Right now the soft background holiday music from the 30’s, 40’s and 50’s plays and I find myself staring at the French yellow walls glowing with the reflected sunlight that bounces off of the glass topped tables on my front-porch.

Next my gaze falls on the glass doors of my fireplace with its chain-draped curtains peeking out behind the glass and black-iron framing. Looking slightly to the right, drawing my attention, is the delicate wingback chair, also inherited from my grandparents. Even though she doesn’t sit there now, I can see in my mind’s eye, the china doll that always sat in this chair at Grandpa and Grandma W’s. She wore a black silk mourning dress, with a little nosegay of violets pinned to her shoulder. Her hair, painted curls, was as black and glossy as obsidian. Her cheeks stained with a blush of red, and pursed little lips. She was a special doll, one that was only to be admired and never touched. Oh the stories I made up about her! You know she was Parisian, right? And she came from a terribly, terribly wealthy family. I’m sure her little-girl owner used to place her in a baby tram and stroll with her nanny and baby-doll down the Champs de Elsie towards the Jardin des Tuileries.

A bird fluttering past the window causes me to look outside at the white pillared framed scene of the outdoors. The puzzle bark pine trees, dragon red maple branches highlighted on the winter-green grass never fail to fill me with a feeling of goodwill. *Sigh* how nice to be home. How nice to HAVE a home. How nice feel peace, joy, and contentment, right here in my little corner of the world.

Enjoy your Saturday everyone!

1 comment:

Jennifer said...

I truly madly deeply love this post. I hope the rest of your weekend was filled with more of the same!