Stillness of new year mornings, January is just burrowing. I keep looking around and seeing how 'nesting' really takes on a personal expression for everyone. See a person's space, and you see who they are.
I always have this little vision of a vine covered cottage in a forest teeming with old china and stacks of well loved books and worn tables and miss matched overstuffed sofas and a tin of cookies and tea for anyone dropping by.
We all have something on the inside we want to let out. For me, it's this constant internal push to paint the warmth and love of my Nonna on places, and make a big inviting nook for my loves to feel a safe haven from the world 'out there'. But it also has to be its own kind of beautiful. But it also can't be super sparkly new. But it also has to be well made.
I ask too much lol. So I scavenge and forage and pull it together a small piece at a time.
Can I tell you the stories of the nooks so far?
About the crazy pendant lamp I found on Etsy from a dealer in Morocco that I didn't realize doesn't have the same electrical outlets as we do (and the guys Woking on our house laughing and offering to cut out a plastic yogurt lid to make it fit).
Or the crazy 7.00 cheapo art print from value village that I don't know why I bought and saved years ago and now somehow kinda looks classy in the kitchen?
Or the big armoire we use as a pantry- FB marketplace scavenge to find out it was handmade by a woodworker craftsman from my home village in Cumberland, signed on the bottom.
Or the apron my sister made for me one Christmas that I can't bear to wear because I love it so much. Or the contrasting one beside it made by my sister in law this Christmas that really touched my heart.
The farm table from a local farm in Renfrew, loved for decades by another family first, that seats 12, because I keep hoping all the time for big family dinners.
The funny wood farm chairs we discovered have creepy faces carved in the back rests
A copper ladle from my aunt Mary's house- the queen of collecting baubles, and one of the few things I have left to remember that generation of my family.
Everything has a story. This makes our nooks.