Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close

I recently saw this movie for the first time the, not really knowing much about it other than that it was quite well-received by critics and fans alike.  

The Warner Brothers film, starring Tom Hanks, Sandra Bullock, Max Von Sydow, and Thomas Horn, was directed by Stephen Daldry, who also directed The Hours.  

It is based on the novel by Johnathan Safran Foer, which I have not yet read.

  It is about a young boy named Oskar Schell, played by Thomas Horn, who is a bit different from other people in the ways he both sees and interacts with the world.

His father, played by Tom Hanks, has a way of drawing him out and building upon his strengths of intelligence, focus, and sensitivity. 

Oskar and his father go on elaborate treasure hunts through Central Park, a strategy developed by  Oskar's father to get him out into the world, instead of shrinking from it.

A disaster befalls the family, and Oskar is left without his dad.  He struggles to hold onto his father in any way he can, and this desire leads him on a quest of his own to uncover a mystery left behind by his dad.

He meets and is aided by hundreds of people along the way, including a friend of his grandmother's "from the old country," played by Max Von Sydow.  

Sandra Bullock, as the mother, does what many mothers find hardest to do-- giving their children freedom to go and discover what lies beyond the sheltering walls of home and family, while still providing the safety net they need should they stumble and fall.

His adventures bring them close together as they both grapple with the worst loss either of them can imagine.

My own experiences with loss are deep and on-going, as my long-time readers are aware, which is why this film impacted me so dramatically.  There is one scene where Oskar talks about the days since his father's passing slipping away and his dread as this occurs, as if the march of time could further the disconnect between the living and the dead.  I remember being in this mindset after my son, Ryan's death.  Each day, then week, then month, then year was another jab to the heart, drawing him further away from me.  Now, four and a half years, and additional losses, later, I realize that time was not the enemy.  I have since stopped fighting it.  The clock ticks, the days roll, the seasons turn, and my life has gone on. 

By the end of the film, Oskar finds a way to keep living with this loss, partly by losing his self-imposed isolation and enriching his connections to others, partly through forgiveness of himself and those around him.  About four months after my son died, I remember consciously choosing to live.  There is a difference between existing, which involves taking up oxygen and space; and living, which involves a conscious engagement with one's life.  Just because Ryan's life had ended, did not mean mine was over.  I had other people, including my daughter, whom I continued to love; things I wanted to experience; places I wanted to see; poems and stories I wanted to write; art I wanted to create; gardens I wanted to plant; houses I wanted to revive.  Those needs and wants compelled me into this life I have now.  My eyes are open to the life I have chosen, my heart is open to the pain and the beauty that surrounds me, my mind is open to all there is to learn.  Oskar goes through the same process on his wild-goose chase.  In the end, his own life is affirmed.

Some works of art resonate so deeply within the psyche, we are forever enriched by having experienced them.  For me, Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close was one such piece of art. 

Until next time...

Anne

Summer into Fall

"Departing summer hath assumed an aspect tenderly illumed..."

~ William Wordsworth

As the summer light is changing and nights are coming on more quickly, my cottage decor is transitioning to fall.  All the pale blues that made up my summer color scheme have been replaced with warmer reds and tiny bursts of goldenrod.

The beauty of decorating with neutrals is that a simple change of throw pillows and accessories, such as the bowl of apples, yields a completely different mood.

The items on the shelf above the sofa, which is my substitute for a mantel, have become darker and more mysterious, in anticipation of the coming of autumn.  Mercury glass accents remain a constant, however.

This is the view from the front door looking toward the back door.  The house is open feels spacious, with the abundance of light and high ceilings.

The vignette on the dining room buffet still whispers of summer dreams, with the pond sailboat, starfish, driftwood, and large sea shell.  The photograph was taken by my dear artist friend,  JoAnna Johnson, whose 30 dresses series of photographs is simple haunting and evocative of dreams.

This is what you see as you look back toward the front door.  At some point I would like to acquire some black windsor dining chairs, but for now, the white pressback ones I have had for 20 years will suffice.

Tibetan prayer flags hang in the dining room doorway.  A air conditioning duct is close by, and they flutter in the man-made breeze.  These flags represent the five elements and are hung where they will be stirred by breezes.  The belief is that prayers will be blown by the wind and spread compassion and goodwill into the nearby spaces.  They bring a tiny burst of color into the creamy white spaces of my home.

Wishing you and opportunity to get outside and enjoy the late summer light, as it bathes the landscape in gold.

Until next time...

Anne

Spending Sunday in the Kitchen

Late summer is apple season in my part of the world.  

The crisp color and taste of Granny Smith apples make me smile.

Here they are, prepped for apple pie.

The completed pie, a request from my daughter in honor of her birthday. 

My white galley kitchen has loads of open shelves for displaying everyday dishes and glassware, along with a few treasures.

In addition to pie-baking, I tackled the stained porcelain of the kitchen sink.  This sink was probably installed in the 1950's, judging by the pattern on the formica that surrounds it.  It has seen many years of abuse and neglect, leaving some stains deeply etched into the porcelain.  

This was the sink after cleaning it out with regular dish soap.

My first round of serious stain treatment involved making a paste of baking soda and peroxide, scrubbing it into the basin, and letting it sit for about 15 minutes.

Some improvement was made.

The next phase involved using oxy clean and letting it sit on the surface for 15 minutes.

The final product, while not perfect is certainly a major improvement. I can live with it if or until we decide to replace it.  My fondness for old porcelain over cast iron fixtures runs deep-- they feel so solid and timeless.

 I used the same approach on the cast iron bathtub, which was not as badly worn, and all the stains disappeared.

After traveling earlier in the month, this is what I have been up to.  This week I started back to work.  How are you enjoying the last weeks of summer?

Cottage Blues

My homage to the many blues of cottage style decorating....  

Most of us have heard that there, allegedly, are 50 shades of grey, 

but there is also an abundance of blue hues. 

I am drawn to the soft, the ethereal, the quiet ones.  Any colors that scream leave me feeling somewhat agitated and antsy.  Yet shades that evoke memories of the summer sea or of wildflowers blooming en masse in a dense woodland or of shrubbery framing a July garden 

whisper of peacefulness and well-being.   I have used the phrase before, but rooms that whisper, rather than shout, are the ones, for me, where a soulfulness pervades.  

Color, along with light, has a profound effect on mood.  In my home I strive to create a mood that is airy, soothing, and comfortable.  It is important for me to feel a connection to both the earth and the sky. With their origins in the natural world and celestial hues, these blues provide an element of both. 

While blue is not often thought of as a neutral, there are shades of blue that certainly bring out the best in other colors, such as a pale aqua with any shade of tan or grey.  And one might argue that navy can be a neutral, and is often used in place of black.  My passion for decorating with neutrals remains pure, despite a current love of blue.  

Until next time...

Anne

A fitting, new home for my campaign bed

As an unapologetic romantic, I have always had a fascination with bedrooms.  

Bedrooms are places that permit us to indulge our fantasies, decorating or otherwise.  

They are rooms where we do not have to censor ourselves, where we can let our tastes and preferences reign, where comfort and ease are priority.  These spaces are deliberately separated from the noise and activity of the rest of the house and the larger world, 

rooms dedicated solely to love-making, sleeping,

 and thus, to dreaming.  

The master bedroom at my new home is the kind of bedroom I have long dreamed of.  

My campaign bed sits proudly in the center of the three-sided bay, its sculptural fra% stretching toward the 10' ceiling.  The bed itself sits high off the floor, and I feel like princess when climbing in and out of it each day.

With a bed this grand, the rest of the room is intentionally kept simple.  Ivory walls and velvet curtains provide a peaceful backdrop that lets the bed stand out.  The pendant light, with its Edison-style bulb,  adds a bit of retro cool.  

The front porch is visible through the windows, establishing a connection to the outdoors.

The Victorian glider, a chair we picked up at an antiques strore in Franklin, Tennessee, is small but incredibly comfortable.  It is another piece that has great lines, so it seemed fitting to put it near the bed.

Bedding is also kept simple in color, form, and fabric.  Whites, creams, and greys create a restful atmosphere that is easy on the eyes when waking with the morning sun.

An antique mirror hangs across from the bed.  Its aged glass has a patina that compliments the muted furnishings and color palette.

The bedroom is romantic without being overly feminine, which allows my honey to be comfortable here. This room just might be my favorite place in the house.  As you have seen in the photos, my cats sure seem to like it also!

Until next time...

Anne

Settling In and Listening

It has been said so many times now in decorating circles that it has become a cliche:  Listen to your house to see what it is telling you about how it wants to be decorated.  

Some cliches, despite overuse, ring true.

When working on this cottage, I took some hints from what was already there, such as the tall windows, original doors, simple baseboards, and paneled walls.  Other clues came from the things that lay hidden behind a false facade (like the crown molding hidden beneath the drop ceiling and the trim boards discovered in the basement).  

The house gets great light, and all decisions were made to accentuate that fact.  Pale walls and natural elements were what the house was asking for.

The paneled walls lend a casual air to the rooms, so worn furnishings seem to fit right in.

The sea grass rugs and woven roman shades add loads of texture.  My painted furniture blends well with the neutral backdrop.  Velvet chairs and silk pillows add richness.

Plants scattered around the room and out on the porch bring the outdoors in.  

Mirrors, mercury glass, and polished metal add sparkle and glamor.

The pale blues make me smile.  They are hues I have always gravitated toward and they look lovely with shades of cream, sand, and stormy grey.

Natural accents, such as the raw wood tray and found antlers speak of the forest surrounding my town.

House plants and nature-themed accents reveal my other love-- gardening.

Greenery, visible through the front window, makes me feel more at home in town, after having been a country girl for so many years.

A corner of the dining room shows a mixture of natural materials-- antlers, crystal, bronze, and a variety of wood finishes. 

Bits of black peppered throughout the rooms add contrast and keep spaces from being too delicate.

Moving has been more work than I thought it would be.  We are still settling in.  There is still much unpacking left to be done, but things are coming into focus.  I will continue to listen to this old house, letting it dictate what needs to be done to help it achieve its fullest potential.  After so many years of neglect, I think it is happy to finally be loved and understood once again.  

Until next time...

Anne

A sneak peek

It has been quite awhile since I popped in to say hello.  Every free moment (when I have been in town) has been spent working on the blue cottage, soon to be my new home.  I have not done all the work myself, but actually did a substantial amount, including tiling, painting, plaster repair, and some trim work.  It has been an exhausting, but ultimately rewarding, process.

The above image shows the hobbit-like pantry, one of the most charming things about the house.  It is covered in beadboard, which I recently painted a creamy white.

Everything in the house has been covered -- walls, ceilings, and trim-- with the same delicious shade of white.  I have used twenty-three gallons so far, and that is only for the downstairs.  Most surfaces have required three or four coats to cover the previous shades of vibrant green that covered walls and the brown-painted baseboards.

The bathroom was completely re-done, with the exception of the old cast-iron tub.  I liked its curved apron and depth, so we decided to keep it.  I tiled the tub surround with 3" x 6" subway tiles, a project that took me five days from start to finish.  We installed floor-to-ceiling beadboard in the bathroom, and I am in love with the way it adds height to this room, where the ceilings are a standard 8' high.  The mirror has yet to be hung; we are still working on finishing the little things.

After removing the old drop-ceiling from the dining room, living room, and master bedroom, the ceilings soar to 10'.  I spent several days covered in dust from doing plaster repairs.  There were lots of holes in the ceiling from where the supports for the drop ceiling had been nailed to the ceiling joists.  Multiple coats of EZ Sand and lots of hand sanding did the trick.  I finished the final sanding today and painted the ceilings!  What a relief to have that part of things completed.  The new chandelier in the dining room is from Pottery Barn, as is the sisal rug rolled up and stored under the table.  I purchased a huge, cherry dining table from a local antiques shop and brought it straight over to the new house.  An old sheet protects it from all the dust and debris.

During and after shots of the living room.  The hideous drop ceiling is visible in the second photo.  There is still a pile of trim boards in the middle of the room (top), but I wanted to give all my lovely readers an update and decided to overlook the mess.  The flooring throughout is a new laminate.  Unfortunately, when we tore out the old carpeting, we discovered that the pine floors had been ruined beyond repair.  They had, at one time, been covered in linoleum, and the thick swirls of glue were still adhered to the pine floors.  This laminate was used throughout the downstairs, and I already like the way it grounds all the white space.

 A view from the living room into the master bedroom.  The wall with multi-colored boards was once a door that our handy man covered with scrap lumber.  The intent was to cover it to match the rest of the walls, but I'm not sure now.  I kind of like it's quirky charm.  What do you think?

This is a corner closet under the stairs, the one place where the original base board and pine floor still exists.  It is so sad that all this gorgeous wood work was stripped away and discarded.  I was able to salvage the original trim boards that span the opening between the living and dining rooms.  And some of the original doors remain intact.  Salvaged doors will be installed where original doors are missing.

I hope you have enjoyed this mini tour of my new house.  If all goes well this week, and I finish the remaining little things, we plan to move in over the weekend.

Stay tuned for more from my historic home.

Until next time...

Anne