the house where i grew up…

The house where I grew up…

I wish I had a better photo. This was an old polaroid that was scanned and saved many years ago, so forgive the quality. But, this is still an image that is pretty special to me. Because it evokes so many wonderful and happy memories.

It was a small framed house, painted the prettiest shade of soft, colonial yellow. It had white shutters and trim and a porch painted the perfect shade of brick red. My mom and dad built a little split rail fence out front, with a brick walkway over to the driveway. The landscaping was filled with old-fashioned nandina, pyracantha and waxleaf ligustrum shrubs in long narrow beds spanning the front of the house. There were fragrant rose blooms in the summer and crisp, tangy chrysanthemums in the fall. A mature mimosa tree spread its limbs across one side of the front lawn and provided lacy shade beneath is pink feathery blooms on hot summer days.

It was the quintessential cottage – before cottages were all the rage! To us, it was simply home.

I still dream within the walls of that little house. It fills me with a sense of peace and familiarity as I regularly visit when I slumber. In those visions, even though I am grown and many years have passed, the house remains unchanged by time. And, yet, that seems so logical and expected, the way it truly should be.

Though my decorating and homemaking style has changed throughout the years, I still feel drawn to the traditional and classic style of decor and furnishings that my mother incorporated. A mix of antiques and mellow wood tones, neutrals and creams mixed with mossy green or early American gold still hold a strong appeal for me. (Do avocado green, harvest gold and coppertone ring a bell?) And just like my mother, I am constantly rearranging and shoving things around to change my surroundings. (There must be a gene for that because my daughter does the same thing!)

Looking through glossy decorating magazines and incorporating ideas I observe has largely been replaced by browsing Instagram or Pinterest for bits and pieces of trends that I might want to follow. But, sometimes, my best inspiration comes from simply remembering my childhood home and following my heart when it comes to style. Because, after all, isn’t your best home style what truly speaks to your soul and not something dictated by copying others?

So, here’s to all you other baby boomers who recall a simpler time, when there was not the same level of outside influence on how we dressed the space we live in! A time when our homes weren’t measured by likes or views, but by the comfort and sanctuary they provided within the walls as a family sat down to dinner or children ran and played in the yards until dark. I like to think that the house I remember was perfect, in all its simplicity, and that I learned much of what I know about making a home from my mother, as she created a beautiful and comfortable space for our family. What a legacy, sustained by powerful memories of a childhood home!