I asked my friends to rattle off some adjectives when describing my home.
“Soothing”, “calm”, ” happy”, and, “Cozy, comfy, relaxing. That is your house.” Those are some of the responses I received which gave me some serious warm fuzzies and feels. That is all I ever wanted — to have a home where people felt comfortable and satisfied with full bellies. I have spent the last couple of weeks working on my Fall decor because I was really anxious to do a Fall Tour. For me it wasn’t just about Fall decor. For me it was a “coming out” of sorts. For those of you who see my Instagram feed or my Pinterest boards, you don’t see a lot of the interior of my home. There’s a reason for that. I am not who you think I am.
I feel I have to disclose that I love the farmhouse decor and the neutral colors and the white — oh, all the white — walls and everything else. It’s stunning. It is. It’s beautiful. But my home? No, friends, my home doesn’t look like those Instagram photos.
Not even close. My home has color — lots of color. What was the inspiration for all this color? A 15-year-old defective mirror from Pier 1 Imports. Yes, that is correct. An old, mistake of a mirror. I have a room painted almost every color in that frame. My house also has some serious beige. Beige carpet, natural cabinets, beige vanities and counter tops. I painted the family room beige because of our open floor plan and the family room is the center of the house, both literally and figuratively. Everything branches off that room. Plus my couch was a beige-ish color, so I went with what was already here when we moved in. Everything was in good condition and I couldn’t justify replacing the couch, carpet, linoleum and counter tops.
That being said, I love it.
I took over the day-to-day operations of Our Storied Home almost two years ago. Sometimes it’s more week-to-week or even month-to-month because life happens, and I am in the process of trying to give myself some grace instead of grief over it when time escapes me or I need some self-care for health reasons. Amanda started Our Storied Home with her own blood, sweat, and tears. Her soulful, whimsical style was one-of-a-kind. We have similar tastes in decor — I like hers and she likes mine, but we still have differences in doing our own decor. I was (and still am) nervous about this tour because my style is so vastly different than what most of you have come to expect from Our Storied Home. My “storied home” is different than Amanda’s but I still love entertaining, baking, DIY projects, furniture rehab, and painting. We’re both makers and as we all know, makers gotta make — it’s part of who we are and it has to spill out of us somehow.
Within this Fall Tour there are several projects that I worked on to put it all together (the wreath, the table centerpiece, and the antique toolbox, the pergola, and the blackberry Moscow Mules). I am working on those posts and will get links up to those as soon as I finish this project. It’s been an undertaking to say the least, but I have enjoyed it. It’s my first home tour and I hope it won’t be my last.
While I can’t specifically give you a word or phrase for my decor style, items that have been in my family for many years are woven into the colorful eclectic style that is my own. It’s so important to me to incorporate those keepsakes into my everyday life. I can’t imagine storing them somewhere or having them hidden away because they are “too special” to use or they have some sort of flaw. The flaws are their story.
The dishes on my table were my grandmother’s (Dad’s mom). I treasure these dishes so much. I grew up with these dishes — I don’t remember a time when they haven’t been a part of my life. We sometimes had 23 or 24 people there and that little house was packed. We used those same dishes every year at Thanksgiving and ONLY Thanksgiving, but they were there, every year, from the time I started out at the kid table in the kitchen until our last Thanksgiving at that house in 1996. It breaks my heart to think my son, Jake, never knew Thanksgiving at Memaw and Papaws’ house. He thankfully got to know Memaw, but Thanksgivings with my family at the farm were special. I think of all of our family that used these very dishes over the years. I see those dishes (they’re my everyday dishes) and every time I see them, I still think “Ooooohhhhh, Thanksgiving dishes!!!”.
My kitchen table is one of my favorite pieces of furniture. It is an old, square table (that has two leaves I can add to make it rectangular that my Uncle Bob made for me) that belonged to my great-grandparents. It is flawed, but to me it’s perfect. I know I need to sand it and show it some love, but I think of all the marks, dents, scratches, water rings, and even Sharpie marks (NO, it’s *wasn’t* me) and the stories and people that go along with those imperfections. It’s also on casters which is a little unique as well as the detail in the woodwork. The legs resemble really thick rope and the trim around the edges is amazing. Is it special? Of course. Something I treasure? Absolutely. Too special to use? Never.
My mom was the craftiest person I have ever known. She could try something — anything– for the first time and you would think she had been doing it her whole life. She could draw and paint (I didn’t get that gene) but could also whip up a wreath or gift wrap something that looked like it was in a magazine spread. I often think how jealous (jokingly) she would have been of my craft closet. I work on things in my craft closet and think if my mom were still here she would be right there beside me, crafting along, reminding me of the “rule of three” or “rule of five” while making my wreath.
About eight years ago at my old house, my dad and I built my first pergola. My dad had Non-Hodgkins Lymphoma and was still working as a building superintendent for a company that built homes, barns and other miscellaneous buildings on horse farms. He was also receiving chemo at that time, which still amazes me that he could do all of that and never miss a beat. My pergola was truly beautiful. I knew it would probably be one of my last projects I would do with my dad, which is why when I moved, I cried more over that pergola than I had over anything in a long time. It broke my heart to leave it. It felt like I was leaving a piece of my soul at that house. Last year my darling, awesome, amazing, brother and his friend Patrick, built me a new pergola at my new house. A.J. knew how much my pergola meant to me and he knew it would thrill my dad that we worked on a project like that together. This year was my first year to really use the pergola in the cooler weather, so adult beverages to warm us, lights, candles, pillows and blankets were essential.
Along with using keepsakes from my family, it is very important to me for people to feel comfortable while they’re here. I have lots of blankets around the house in case you may want to snuggle up with a chai latte or a blackberry Moscow Mule. I like fluffy plush towels in the bathrooms and Alexa is everywhere in the house if you are up for a particular song or need the answer to a question or a movie time. Old and new are side by side in my home. My parents are both gone now, and this time of year is really hard. Fall is the end of summer, which I love as well, but it’s also something else entirely. It’s the beginning of a time of reflection for me. The decor is just an outward expression of what’s in my heart and soul and I want to share it with those near and dear.
So there you have it. My “coming out” post to the lifestyle/decor world. It was tough. Harder than I ever thought. Sharing your home is sharing a part of yourself and I guess I never realized what a personal thing it is. Took me almost two years, but I did it! Thank you for taking the Fall Tour at Our Storied Home. Come back and see us soon. I’d love to see you for Christmas!
