And the whole ceiling hung from these here two-by-fours, which lasted a hundred years, suspended by a few scrawny scraps of floorboard: “They must’ve been running low on wood,” he says, when he points them out.
And I try to imagine the builders deliberating about whether to make another run to the lumber yard, or piecemeal it together with the little they had left. Or perhaps there was no deliberation at all, just the fast wielding of hammers and the bead board thrown up to finish the last of the house, to mask the shortage.

And I think about this busy month, the baby shower and the art show and the illustrations and two speaking engagements, the messy house and the slow (very slow) restoration of order. I think about all the creativity and the long talks and the time spent playing tea party and reading chapter books, rather than writing or cleaning. And I think, too, about the moments I snapped instead of offering a kind word, judged instead of listening, gossiped instead of praying, multiplied anxiety instead of gratitude; and this was just in the last few hours.Daily I fail. And daily I grow. And a hundred years ago a builder wove together solid wood and broken scraps, held together with nails hammered deep, to create a porch strong enough to hold ten decades worth of mailmen’s footsteps and lemonade evenings; aching goodbyes and last glances; toddler toes wiggling with anticipated arrivals.

The rain has done damage, and there is warped wood, places gone rotten: but the frame is strong, save the whole ceiling-hanging-from-the-floorboard-thing. And as the porch is dismantled and rebuilt, I take heed that the broken and not-enough often play an important part of the story, and we’re all pieced together with enduring strengths and alarming vulnerabilities. 

I think about my small life, my marriage, my family. And this old house is home for us for now, full of charm and quirks, frustrations and endless projects, er, opportunities.  And we’re all being built, and tonight, I’m hopeful that even the floorboards scrapped together at the end of the day might make something beautiful and lasting in the end.

As we move into Thanksgiving, we added this sweet leaf garland, inspired by Pinterest. Just felt and embroidery floss, a perfect first stitching project, one commenter noted. She was right. My five year old’s first needlework. And no eyes poked out, either.

And these. Just Hershey’s Kisses and mini Nilla Wafers and peanut butter chips, “glued” together with peanut butter. And there are lots of other ideas pinned on my Thanksgiving board, and I had hopes for more than felt and Nilla wafers, but life has been full, and sometimes I have to let go of the ideals to embrace the simple sweetness of the ordinary.  So, we’re just taking it all one day at a time.  Just counting the gifts, and thanking the Giver, one day at a time.

Offering thanks today with this sweet community:

… for a morning at home, with no agenda

… for the litanies of life: laundry and dishes and multiple puzzles poured out all over these dirty floors, and the opportunity to make all things new today

… for affordable airfare to visit family

… for the gritty long talks, where truth prevails and I remember again how much I love this man I married, and his passion and perseverance

… for a new life, a nephew, 3lb and 5 ounces, reminding us that life is a gift, each breath  (Will you pray for this sweet baby’s lungs to grow strong and for his development in the neonatal intensive care unit, both for him and his parents, my sister and her husband?)

May your hearts be full of thanks this weekend,
in the quiet moments,
in the midst of the hurry,
in the laughter
and in the pain,
in all things.

Happy Thanksgiving, friends.

When the wind blows fierce, cold air screams out of cracks in those beautiful wide-plank floors, and rain falls steady from an interior door frame in our kitchen in this centennial house.  And I bet people pay good money for a zen waterfall in their doorways somewhere, but their water probably leaks clear, and not with the stain of wood that was harvested when my great grandmother was learning to walk. For a hundred years women have dusted this banister and looked out the window, here above the sink.  And this old house is beautiful, but it creaks with age, and groans for repair.

And the groans of this house aren’t anything compared to the groaning outside its walls, all creation, if you listen, crying out for renewal.  I’ve heard of these groanings, and think of them when snow unexpectedly blankets all autumn’s glory.  And I used to think that when Paul penned the words, the groaning had little to do with this small life, and more to do with just waiting quietly for resurrection.

I consider that our present sufferings are not worth comparing with the glory that will be revealed in us. For the creation waits in eager expectation for the children of God to be revealed. For the creation was subjected to frustration, not by its own choice, but by the will of the one who subjected it, in hope that the creation itself will be liberated from its bondage to decay and brought into the freedom and glory of the children of God.

We know that the whole creation has been groaning as in the pains of childbirth right up to the present time. Not only so, but we ourselves, who have the firstfruits of the Spirit, groan inwardly as we wait eagerly for our adoption to sonship, the redemption of our bodies. For in this hope we were saved. But hope that is seen is no hope at all. Who hopes for what they already have? But if we hope for what we do not yet have, we wait for it patiently.

Romans 8.18-25

Because the freedom creation’s longing for is one we’ve already got, that we’re still waiting for.  It’s another beautiful paradox in a life ripe with tension: the here now and the not yet, the waiting for redemption and the reality of heaven crying out to be lived here and now.

And to think, creation is groaning for what I’ve already been gifted: sonship, the gift of belonging and resting as a beloved, the reality of redemption.  Snow’s dancing in late October and wind whipping through the halls of this cold house, reminding me that creation is groaning, longing to see the sons and daughters dance and rest and live fully alive in the promise, and that one day we will do so effortlessly. And the pit of me groans with longing for that day, and leans into belonging and grace for today, and the tension dances in my soul and drips from these doorways.

Counting gifts with Ann today, and thankful today for…

– a weekend full of rest for my soul
- so many sweet serendipitous and providential conversations this weekend
- sweet new friends
- encouragement from old friends
- my husband and family, who weathered storms and power outages while I was away
- long naps for sick kids
- the gift of God’s Word
- power’s back on and the house is warm now

Corn stalks, mums and gourds.  Fall decorating couldn’t be easier.  We dressed up our porch for our first fall here at home with these treasures from our beloved farmer’s market and our favorite apple orchard. There couldn’t be a more economical season to decorate for, with everything coming straight (or occasionally indirectly…) from the farm.  This year I’m especially enjoying the cheese pumpkin and our the light green one, which I think is a Crown Prince pumpkin.  I have a killer pumpkin soup recipe planned for them once they’ve served their purpose outside.

And did you know, by the way, that not all mums are hardy mums?  I didn’t, and I found my mums were, indeed, not so hardy when my little gardening buddies dismantled more than one in their earnest attempts to plant them by my side.  The broken bits did fill several creamers and ball jars to make beautiful vases full of fall beauty inside, and their buds lasted almost three weeks.  More pictures of inside fall decor next week.

Happy weekend.  Hope it finds you in the company of those you love & outside enjoying these beautiful golden days.

Oh, poor neglected little blog.  Sorry to have ignored you so long.  It’s just that it’s been so nice out, and there have been so many fun summery things to do.  (Not to mention the house projects!) I have been thinking about you though.  I’ve been taking lots of pictures (see below!) & promise to be back soon!

xoxo,
Annie

I’m curioius… what’s your most very favorite summer activity?

The funny thing about buying a house is that it doesn’t come with a user guide.  Even vacation houses have a little guestbook for people to share the highlights of their stay.  Can you imagine a little book with a  message from each person who owned this old house, a little glimpse into their lives and their experiences here?  How fun would that be?

We’ve had such a blast trying to figure out, say, where the light switch for the little lamppost near our sidewalk was (in the basement, naturally) and why the electricians who “completely redid all the electric in the house” used frayed cloth wire from the 1900′s for the wiring in the bedroom (ahem).    But among all the idiosyncrasies of this house there is a lot of charm.  I have to admit, I’m even developing a little keenness for some of the quirky little things that were on my “to eradicate in the first week” list.  But here is one of my absolute favorite things we’ve inherited with the house: a crazy beautiful, mature climbing rose scaling the lattice on our porch.

I cannot even count the blooms, and there are hundreds of little buds still to come.  I feel like I’ve inherited the reward for others’ faithful stewardship of this sweet plant, and hope earnestly that I can keep it thriving.  Any tips from my gardening guru friends?

I’ve never really been a huge fan of Pier 1 Imports. It’s not like I don’t have things from Pier 1 that I love. In fact, my mental tally of random Pier 1 things I own and love is almost, almost making me consider rewriting that last sentence. But when I walk into Pier 1, there’s just so much stuff, and I feel like so much of it is just reproductions of things that would be really cool if they were actually vintage wire egg baskets, or genuine candlesticks from Morocco.

So why, you ask, am I giving Pier 1 a big, fat gold star today? Well, let me tell you.

Numero Uno: This little ad landed on my table the other morning, smack dab in the middle of our self-quarantined week of the everything virus. My husband usually gets the mail at the end of his work day, and it’s my little treat to look over it at breakfast: hoping for a hand-written letter, contentedly settling for a fun flyer, or disdaining those purely junk-mail days. This week, Pier 1 gets big props from this average sized mama for featuring a model who looks like a real (albeit beautiful and voluptuous) person. Check her out! Her waist is not smaller than her neck! I’ve been pretty impressed with the big Dove campaign for Real Beauty, but, you’ve got to admit, there was a lot of hype about it: Look at us, we’re making a positive impact on young girl’s body image. Given the airbrushing and eating disorders that color our country, the hoopla was probably necessary. But Pier 1 takes it a step farther, in my opinion, showing us how far we’ve come, by featuring this lovely looking lady sans all the exhibition. The fact that it stuck out to me indicates that we (or maybe just I?) still have room to grow, but, still, way to go, Pier 1: Way. To. Go. And as if that wasn’t enough to earn a gold star…

Numero Deux: I was totally inspired by this table (as shown in the flyer here); it took everything in me not to whip out my paints and start distressing my table legs. As I’ve thought about our big move, I’ve been trying to figure out how to incorporate our basic Ikea table, that looks something like this into a more finished dining room in the new house. I’ve been thinking Pottery Barn Farmhouse style, and this look definitely farmhouses it up. I’m super excited to work on the distressed look.

Who knows, maybe I’ll even shop Pier 1 for a few chairs to match,you know, now that they’re on my good side and all, mass wire baskets notwithstanding.

Our little abode is quite a hodge-podge, almost equal parts Ikea and garage sale vintage treasures. One of my favorite little finds is an incredibly sturdy wine crate we found just before our wedding, as we were on the hunt for items to fill our first apartment. It’s held lots of different collections and served several functions, but right now it’s part side table, part shelf.If you have  an affinity for wine crates, check out the collection that Grace from Poetic Home put together last spring.  The inspiration she shared on repurposing wine crates, along with the many other tastefully selected treasures she highlights on her site, has made it one of my favorites.  Here’s a few more inspiring ideas to get your creative engines running!{a} Through Poetic Home, I stumbled upon this image, one of many lovely photographs of the home of Tracy and Michelle (by The Selby)

{b} Design Sponge offers a fun tutorial on creating a display case from your wine crate.

{c} Delightful Rachel, from Heart of Light, created these lovely little outdoor planters using wine crates.

This is the mobile that started it all. I came across it at Crabtree & Evelyn, when Ted and I were in Enlgand on business the spring I was pregnant with Laura.  We didn’t know the baby’s gender, and this little mobile (suspended from the fan, with all it’s little beads and pins) became the inspiration that linked my childhood across the street from a dairy farm to our new nursery’s decor.

In our small home, the girls’ bedroom doubles as sleeping quarters and play room, so I’ve really tried to make it an inviting, fun, creative place to play and rest.  The baby crib was gifted to us by a family whose youngest had graduated to a Thomas bed. My mom and I sewed the gingham curtains together.

I painted four little animals on canvas with acrylic, and my parents found this tree, a (sadly, no longer available) Pottery Barn Kids wall sticker. (It helped me overcome my grief at not being able to paint – apartment rules.)

My dad built these cedar “shudders” to flank the large mural I created.  The little train was inspired by one of my husband’s favorite spots, the Moodna Viaduct.

The bright canopy from Ikea transformed Laura’s toddler bed into a royal sleeping chamber.

Our very talented, and dear, dear family friend Ruth quilted Laura’s gorgeous bedspread, with hand stitched Noah’s Ark animals on the large white squares.  Laura at play at her farm stand: at ten dollars, it was my garage sale bargain of the year.

Thanks for visiting.  Hope you’re inspired to be creative & play at your house this weekend!

When I first discovered Design Blogs, a little over a year ago, it seemed like the image of this book was as common as a Search button.  Released in October of 2008, Domino magazine’s editors put together this “room by room decorating guide” before the magazine folded in January 2009.  New to the design realm, I didn’t understand what a treasure it is until I checked it out of our library this weekend.  Beyond the hundreds of inspirational images of perfectly styled bathrooms and kitchens and bedrooms, the book contains tons of practical information, a little black book of for finding retailers & products, and much more.  It’s an incredibly practical tool and a design text book rolled into one, with lots of eye candy to boot.  Check it out.