I’ve been thinking about what makes a house a home. When you’re decorating or furnishing, there’s a temptation to go on Pinterest – and I have – to find out what your home ‘should’ look like, to rush out and buy lots of trendy things and to immediately furnish it from top to bottom. Which is fun, don’t get me wrong. I almost spent $140 on a throw the other day, and I might yet! It was a beautiful throw. But I wonder if, in a new place, we partly we want to rush through the liminal space of not-quite-our-home-yet that is a bit uncomfortable and lies between the place we were and the place we yearn to find ourselves. Though we can move our physical selves, the transition of something else inside us – the ungraspable thing, in our soul or some place mysterious – isn’t immediate and can’t be rushed. Plus I still get the sense that this house is being handed over, or slowly transitioning, from the previous owner whose imprint and presence lingers, who grasped these door handles, walked this lino kitchen floor – maybe with a cup of tea in hand after a long day of rainy gardening – and stared up at the same ceiling tiles each night, thinking about who knows what. It’s not creepy or haunting, it’s more just a sense his life is dissolving from the house while ours blooms. I know many people wouldn’t even think about this or admit to such thoughts, but… I don’t know, I do think about these things. And I kind of like it. 😌
But back to the furnishing and decorating – while there’s so much inspiration to be gained from outside influences, an article my friend Sanne sent me made me stop and think. Among other things, it was a reminder that our spaces don’t need to be aligned with a trend, don’t need to look like everyone else’s – they need only to reflect our lives back at us. In a little spark of synchronicity, Dad also bought me a book called The Life Eclectic filled with photos of homes that are overflowing with life and personality, slightly odd and always assymetrical, full of colourful knick knacks, unique and antique bits and bobs, mis-matched rugs and mugs and sofas. But there’s an unfolding to this eclectic-ness, as my friend Alex told me in January – you don’t really create ‘eclectic’, it unfolds, like your life. It’s in the cherished objects we collect across our lives, carry from place to place, find in charity shops, are gifted by a friend, that tuck into corners and adorn side tables and immediately make us feel a sense of belonging and warmness. But what also makes a home are the scuff marks where you’ve kicked off your shoes each day, the worn chair you sit in and laugh, cry, watch tv, etc., and the boring boxes we cram in the cupboard full of adult things like screwdrivers and cables and tape measures. I guess that’s the difference between a house and a home. This thing we call life.
Night night friends – it’s way past my bedtime. Let me know your favourite object or space in your home. Would love to hear from you.
P.s. The photo is of a quilt made by a friend of mine, Imelda, looking lovely in a patch of evening sunlight – an irreplaceable object. ❤️
P.p.s. Here’s a lovely song my brother sent to me and I’m sending to you.
Aaaaw, beautiful piece and there's that beautiful blanket! 🩷💛🩵