The Makings of a Home
COCOON OF WARMTH
I don’t want a big house or a house in a neighborhood where all the houses look the same.
I want a weird house, an eccentric house, a house like me:
bits and bobs and unusual features, a collection of inspiration, a cozy labyrinth of nooks and character.
I want a sense of belonging.
I want to paint the walls and put up wallpaper and all the art from all the artists I have ever loved.
I want big windows and lots of light, sun pouring through all day long, cats sleeping in the sunbeams.
I want a kitchen island and a dining room for family and friends to visit:
a big table for gathering, for working, for laying out ideas and shuffling them up and putting them back together.
I want to host dinners and drink wine and share stories and laughter and giggle and cry and read and make art and create new systems of being.
I want candlelight and tarot decks and oracle cards and vision boards, stacks of books to be passed around, shared, and discussed, notebooks and pens and scissors and glue to make a collage in the house that is also a collage.
I want flowers in the windows and fresh baked bread on the table, hanging plants in all the corners to bring the outside in.
But still the outside is just as welcoming, with little chairs and tables for sitting and dreaming and looking and letting the mind wander to the sights and sounds of nature in all its tiny microscopic detail:
a vegetable garden and a pollinator garden and hydrangeas and peonies and magnolia trees in the yard,
squirrels and birds and deer and butterflies.
I want a private house with a long driveway, string lights on the back porch, and a dark sky to see the stars at night.
All imagery in this post via Pinterest