Fifteen Years

 Today is my wedding anniversary!

✨ 💍 ✨

This stunning bouquet was awaiting me this morning.

Fifteen roses. 

🌹

One for each year we've been married.

I am battling a mild head cold, and the weather's been gloomy and rainy.

That's a perfect combination for a melancholy day.

But before I let today slip into the ordinary, I better take a moment to make it special by "marking" it with a photo and a few sentiments. 

I have been reading through the book of Ecclesiastes lately, which is good timing since it seems to contain a fair amount of wisdom for life, marriage, and happiness.

I have always appreciated King Solomon's frankness in this book.

As someone who has been on the hamster wheel of laundry, meals, and homeschool lessons, I can relate to his outcry of, "Meaningless! Meaningless!"

But then he comes around to a more comforting viewpoint and admits that, "There is nothing better than to be happy and do good while you live." -Ecc. 3:12. To, "... accept your lot and be happy." -Ecc. 4:19

Marriage and family life will have its hard times, and its pleasant times.

"When times are good, be happy, but when times are bad, consider: God has made the one as well as the other." -Ecc. 7:14

Tomorrow morning we leave for a short trip to celebrate.

I am looking forward to it very much!

When we get away just the two of us, which is usually every anniversary, we like to talk about our kids and our vision for our family.

We talk about each of our children's strengths, weaknesses, talents, and how we can help them grow their skills.

Micah and I have similar values, and our beliefs are practically identical. This has made raising kids together so easy!

I completely trust him and his character, and for that I feel the children and I are quite blessed.

"Two are better than one, because they have a good return on their work." -Ecc. 4:9

We have had a good fifteen years, and I have felt the hand of the Lord strongly upon our marriage.

"A cord of three strands is not quickly broken." -Ecc. 4:12

(Friday, March 23, 2007)

💐

~ Courtney 

A Short Story for Victoria Magazine

   

I follow Victoria magazine on social media.

It is by far my favorite magazine.

I still have some of my mother's editions from the 1980's and 90's.

Their more recent ones are just as elegant and beautiful. 

I have always appreciated that they seem to have remained loyal to traditional decor, and not succumbed to the modern trends. 

A week or so ago I saw a post from Victoria's Facebook site inviting short stories from readers to be submitted for possible publication.

The thought of writing a short story and submitting it to Victoria seemed luxurious, and besides, what do I have to lose?

I couldn't resist!

After a trip down memory lane, and about an hour at my computer, I was clicking "submit."

What they wanted was very short, only around 600-700 words. But it was very satisfying!

Who knows if I'll ever hear from them, so I thought I'd better save my story somewhere. 

I decided to park it here on my blog for safekeeping.

Here is my short story for your enjoyment, and also "for the record," as I always say.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ 

As a young city girl, visits to Grandma and Grandpa's were a real treat. In a quaint town, on a sparkling river, their yellow farmhouse stood, ready to invite me into an adventure. There were kittens in the barn waiting to be named. My mother's childhood box of Barbies waiting to be played with. The hammock between the pines waiting to be swung on.

My grandparents, being ahead of their time, bought the place in run-down condition, renovating it themselves long before it was fashionable. By the time my grandmother was done with it, elegant rose wallpaper hung in the bright, cheerful kitchen where she cooked for us every visit. Oil on canvas still lifes in antique frames hung in the dining room where we ate at a beautifully set table every Christmas. White upholstered couches faced the wood burning fireplace where I sat on the floor to play while the adults chatted.

I didn't know it then, but that house was wrapping its magical web around my heart. The more memories I made there, the more I became entangled. It was a comfortable house, but beautiful. Warmth and love lived there.

Sometimes I would be invited for a sleepover. These visits were extra exciting and very much anticipated. In the summertime it meant trips to the beach that was just across the street. Followed by a walk down to the ice cream store to enjoy a scoop of Blue Moon on a waffle cone while my suit air dried in the breeze.

Once bathed and back home, Grandma's four poster canopy bed with chenille quilt embraced me as I crawled into it so she could read Little Red Riding Hood to me for the hundredth time. In the morning, Grandpa, a gentle man who was not much for words, would pour me a glass of orange juice, and himself a cup of black coffee. Then he would sit down at the kitchen table next to me, newspaper in hand, while we quietly waited together for Grandma to wake up. 

It was in those reflective, morning moments that the value of a peace-filled homelife made its etch upon my heart.

In time, however, my grandparents sold the yellow farmhouse to move on to their next endeavor. For the first time in my young life I knew what it meant to grieve over a house. I was growing up and moving on myself. But the memories that were made there remained dormant deep within me.

Years later they surfaced. As all childhoods must one day come to an end, I married, and a few years after my husband and I bought a farmhouse of our own. It, too, was in run-down condition and we threw ourselves into restoring it. (The apple must not have fallen far from the tree, because this also was during a time before it was fashionable.)

By the time I was done with it, rose paper and oil on canvas paintings graced my walls. White couches faced the fireplace, and strong coffee was being made in abundance.

We are still in this house, raising our four children on antiques, barn cats, and beautifully set Christmas tables. With the hope that our homelife will etch itself upon their hearts. And that they will one day say, "It was a comfortable house, but beautiful. Warmth and love lived there."

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ 

🌷🏡🌷

~ Courtney 

Owl Wallpaper

 I have recently completed a fun project in my bedroom.

I am quite pleased with the result.

It all started when we upgraded to a king size bed. A decorating dilemma presented itself... I found I was not attracted to the king size headboards currently on the market.

Why do we need a headboard?

Ultimately the decision was made that we would just use this architectural salvage mantlepiece we already had.

One thing led to another, as the wall behind the bed still seemed a bit empty, and I found this monochromatic owl wallpaper.

I know it's not to everyone's taste, but it felt charming and whimsical to me.

So I ordered a sample.

First, I walked the sample around my house. I knew the paper would only be in my bedroom, but it's important to me that my whole house flows and makes sense. If a pattern or color works in one area, I want it to work everywhere.

Then the sample lived taped onto my bedroom wall for about a week as I watched how the light hit it throughout the day and how it made me feel.

Wallpaper can be expensive and tricky to install, but there are some plus sides to it. Once you get the hang of it, it's instant gratification. Unlike paint, there's no dry time or second coat needed. Once it's up, it's done! But one should be warned that, because of pattern repeats, there is a lot of waste with wallpaper. There's no way around it. Always order more than you think you need.

(Note: if you receive any gifts from me wrapped in this owl paper, you will know why! 😂)

My room was in a bit of an upheaval while I worked on the project...

And I was a total stress ball hanging the mantlepiece and pictures back on this wall after all my hard work!

But I'm very happy I did it.

To me it feels soothing, and like a layer of richness was added to the room.

I am very lucky Micah lets me do what I want to the house. I personally think men should. If a woman spends most of her life at home, she should have it fixed up how she likes it.

This house has been very patient with me over the years. We have put her through many design triumphs as well as some defeats. But with all our renovations my goal has always been to create a home suitable for this 100-year old farmhouse. 

If walls could talk I would like to think she would tell me she's pleased.

🏡

Thanks for stopping by my blog today, friends.

xo,

~ Courtney