Crystal Author
I was raised by my Grandparents. I am proud to say that. I learned about hard work and honesty from them. I learned that every person has a story to tell and every stranger met is a new friend in the making. I learned about the joy music brings, that learning is a life long process. Mostly I learned about loyalty and unconditional love.
We lived in “the country.” Back then my “neighborhood” was a rural community dotted with farms, a few tract home developments, lots of open areas and one small corner store with a lone gas pump. We were only 6 miles from our small town but it seemed like an eternity to get there. Saturday trips to town were an all day excursion. Sundays were for family dinners and an “open house” atmosphere where anyone was welcome.
Life changed dramatically when my Grandfather died just before my 13th birthday. He took care of things. How would we live and get by? Who would take care of us? I was frightened and I can’t imagine what my Grandmother felt…… My Grandma…..Flossie to her friends, Mae to her brothers and Grandma Flossie to my friends. She was Gram to me and called herself Grams. She was also my life teacher and anchor.
Flossie Mae had to quit school in the 6th grade to help her mother raise her siblings. She was the oldest and there were ten kids in the house, plus some cousins needing a home. Eight of her siblings lived to adulthood and the various cousins came and went. Life was hard then, harder still for poor families and often their children were sent to the mines or farms as day laborers. The older boys began their working lives as teens in the coal mines, and then enlisted in the Army and Navy. The younger girls went to school and the older ones worked in the garden or were sent to farms to help during “the season.” My Grandmother helped with the laundry and ironing, cleaned the house and wrangled the young ones to and from school. She really had no life as a young girl. She didn’t really get a childhood. When she was sixteen my Grandfather swooped in and decided he would marry her. She went from being the mistress of her mother’s home to being the mistress of her own. She was well equipped to handle the chores and duties of running a household. She’d been doing it for years.
She never said, but I imagine getting married and having a house of her own was actually a blessing. She no longer had to wrangle all her siblings. It wasn’t work and chores from sun up to sun down. My Grandfather took her dancing. To movies. He doted on her. They had friends and she finally had a life. She had my mother, born before most girls my grandmother’s age were even out of high school. A second girl, born a year later lived only a few days, and even though Grams had no more children, there were always kids around, nephews, nieces and the odd child seemingly belonging to no one. My grandparents shared a love of music and performed at county fairs, schools and prisons throughout the state. Their early practice sessions took place in a neighbor’s barn…. the audience….. cows and chickens. Siblings and their spouses were frequent visitors, there were rousing card games and seeming endless Yatzee and Parcheesi competitions. And always music and laughter.
Her greatest shame was her lack of education. But she never stopped learning. As long as I can remember she had a pile of books on a small table by her rocker, a dictionary always on the top of that pile. She’d learn a new word or two every week and practice using whatever the “word of the week was.” Of course her brothers made fun of her. My Great Uncles were cruel (and became the bane of my existence). But my Grams just laughed them off and continued her self teaching. She learned her words, knitted and crocheted and read. She was an avid reader. And passed her love of reading down to me.
If reading was education, music was joy. The old Victrola saw heavy use, later it was an 8 track player and finally a battery operated cassette player. Television was an avenue to musicals and variety shows. I still remember lyrics from the songs of Singing in the Rain, The King and I, Oklahoma, South Pacific and Westside Story. I would sing those songs to my cats as I carried them around the yard in the evenings. (The tradition of singing to livestock was apparently an inherited thing.)
She was a big fan of musical variety shows. I grew up to the sounds of Your Hit Parade, The Perry Como show, The Andy Williams Show, Lawrence Welk, Glenn Campbell and of course, Hee Haw…. Bing Crosby movies and Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers rounded out my musical education. My Grandmother’s love of music is the reason I impress Mr B with my mental “musical library.” He used to be surprised when I could sing along with obscure songs, or was familiar with the latest song for his Barbershop chorus. My music library today holds everything from Adele to ZZ Top with a sprinkling of show tunes, Rachmaninoff, and Puccini. He’s no longer surprised by what I remember. He now says he’s surprised only if I DON’T know. Thanks to my Grams.
Grandma Flossie had an immense sense of humor. She laughed. A lot. Her laugh was infectious. My friends were made to feel instantly at home. When I started dating, I was mortified that my Grandma was at the door to greet my dates and saw nothing wrong with involving them in conversations while I stood, tapping my foot with impatience, ready to bolt out the door as soon as humanly possible.
After high school, a young man I dated always brought a pizza and a six pack of Coke over for “Grandma Flossie.” He would laugh at her jokes, invite her to play a vigorous game of checkers and leave me sitting on the sofa for hours. We were late for everything. I came to the conclusion he would rather spend time with Grams than take me to a movie. I dumped him. Grams complained for months and compared every boyfriend after that to that one boy. There was always some fatal flaw with the “new ones.”
She had to learn to drive after my Grandfather died. She had to learn how to fire up the temperamental oil heater in the winter in order to keep the house warm. She was in her 50’s and had to make a living without a formal education, learn to make do with even less than we had when Grandpa was with us. She made an income babysitting and doing laundry for others. Her early skills taking care of her siblings once again came into play. She was “good with kids,” and her “families” loved her. They invited her on their vacations, took her out to dinner, invited her to birthday parties and graduations long after the kids stopped needing a sitter. One of the families bought her new kitchen appliances for her birthday. A Coppertone refrigerator, gas range with the oven on top! A new toaster and wonder of wonders, an electric skillet! I neither understood, nor appreciated how hard she worked to keep that roof over our heads. How frightened she must have been. How determined she became.
Her best friends were her sisters. Especially my Aunts, Vi and Ruby. They’d pile into the car and head out to find yard sale bargains amid laughter and sibling banter. I learned the joys of thrifting and junking from my Grams. Many of my birthday gifts were those scored at yard sales. And every Friday night the “girls” got together for manicures and doing each other’s hair. I lurked in the background listening to the stories of the old days, gossip and talk of life. I learned about men, marriage, making a dirty martini and how to attach flowers to a hat…. all the important life skills.
Besides music, she loved plants and gardens. Our yard was filled with flowers; Peonies, Heirloom Roses, Lilac bushes, Tiger Lilies, Lily of the Valley, and Sweet Pea vine. Containers filled with Moss Ross, Hens and Chicks and buckets of Ivy were placed on the patio. Daisies grew with abandon. Daffodils and Tulips. Caladiums and Ferns. If it could be grown in our area, my Grams had it. House plants filled our sunlit living room. She was as good at raising plants as she was raising kids. I’m guessing along with all my other loves, I also got my love of plants and gardening from her.
She was a great cook in spite of her experiments with Campbells Soup. She was the Queen of Casseroles…..I ate some very strange concoctions involving pasta or potatoes and “mystery meat” smothered in various creamy soups for years. Some of my fondest memories revolve around weekend mornings, my Grams at the stove wearing one of her “total body aprons” cooking breakfasts of bacon and eggs, always fried in a cast iron skillet with bacon grease. A container of bacon grease sat on the back of the stove and the cast iron skillet was always on one of the burners, ready to go in the event of a hungry guest. She made mint chocolate cake for my birthday because it was my favorite. I may not have had big themed birthday parties, nor was I showered with expensive gifts…..but I had cake.
I didn’t realize then what an incredible woman she was. How strong she was. That realization came much later. She had to learn to be self sufficient in middle age, to teach herself the skills needed to be an adult woman in the 1960’s and 70’s. She had to learn to be watchful, become a bit on guard to ward off advances from men who wanted my Grandfather’s property. She learned to drive, to manage finances, to lock the doors, to survive during a time when widows could become easy prey. And raise a girl two generations removed during a time of social upheaval. I never heard her complain, but she did often say to me, after a particularly hard conversation with a smart alec teenager….. “Crystal, I hope you get one just like you!” (I did. My son was just like me and I heard myself quoting her words to him more than once.) She was wise, with the wisdom coming from a life of hardships and happiness, hard work and fun…. a life well lived.
Of course I never listened to her wisdom back then. I was a typical teenager. But I hear her voice in my mind now. As I go through life, I often think of her and remember things she would say. To this day I use her words; when something is wrecked beyond repair, it’s “rammycacked.” (Mr B particularly likes that one and has adopted it as a description of the way I open packages.) When I’m annoyed with my Grands, I tell them, “If you don’t stop, I’m gonna knock you hell western crooked!” I never knew where hell western was, but was pretty sure I didn’t want to be crooked.
When she died, I lost my anchor. I lost the one person I could depend upon to guide me, the one person who had, if not all….. at least most of the answers. The one who believed in me and gave me unconditional love. I never really recovered from her loss and I mourn her still today. I often wish I could go back in time to tell her how much she meant to me, to let her know that I loved her and appreciated her…. to give her an easier life. I still hear her voice in my head. I think she’s still around, maybe in Hell Western with Aunt Vi and Aunt Ruby. Someplace where there are flowers, books, and music and she’s sitting with that dictionary in her hand….. trying to figure out LOL and OMG.
When one of my Grands says, “My friend, so and so wants to meet you.” And when those friends begin calling me, “Grandma,” or “Grams,” or friend me on Facebook, I know I’m doing something right. Thank you Gram, for every little…. and large thing you taught me….. gave to me. Happy Mothers Day.
OK, I’m late. Late for a very important date…. (apologies to Louis Carroll and Disney), I know I should have posted all my spring stuff before this. I mean, geez, other bloggers have had their spring decor out for weeks. Somehow April got away from me and here it is the first week in May! The older I get the faster time goes. I used to hear that from my elders growing up and I was……”What?” “That doesn’t make any sense. How can time go faster?” But I sure get it now.
For my spring table this year I rounded up a couple of bird nests left over from my Easter centerpiece and added a few things that evoked spring to me. I didn’t want to buy anything new so everything here is stuff I had already had. Greenery….zero dollars. Feathers…. Zero dollars. Nests…. Zero dollars. Free Spring centerpiece? Priceless.
Putting the nests under cloches gives them a little more importance. And what says spring better than greenery in peat pots? Two vintage crystal glasses with bird feathers and rolled up music sheets, and all of it on my favorite chippy wood base layered on a grain sack remnant. It’s low enough that guests can see one another and converse over it, narrow enough that I can still set the table without dismantling or moving everything. 
I added an old book as a riser for one of the peat pots because it was green and had a nifty title. Five acres and Independence. I bought the book months ago for $2.00 with the intention of taking it apart for another project. I didn’t pay particular attention to the title until I got it home. It struck a chord. And I couldn’t bring myself to take it apart.
All the time I was growing up I said I wanted to live on a little farm. Five acres sounded like a pretty good number. I wanted all sort of animals. I didn’t actually want to FARM, I just wanted a farmhouse and animals. Farming looked like hard work and I wasn’t into the whole plowing the field part, but I was into the animal part. Life had other plans for me and I never got my five acres. (Or the farmhouse.) I did, however, get to share my life with various critters over the years. And still have two furbabies. So as far as dreams coming true, I got half of that one. A win surely…. plus I didn’t have to plow any fields. Bonus.
Where was I? Oh yes, the book as a riser. I’m still looking for another vintage book or two….. maybe a gardening or botanical tome for the other end of the table, to balance the arrangement. It’s a bit lopsided with just the one book. I noticed after I added the photos that I still have a crusty little twig hanging out for no apparent reason. It has some great lichen on it but it feels sort of….off…. in the arrangement. Should I remove it? I like to tweak things after I get the basic plan down. This one isn’t any different. There may be other changes besides adding a book and subtracting the twig. Or not. Sometimes an arrangement can feel static and boring without something a little “off.” For now, this is my spring table. I hope you approve.
Create the home you see in your heart. Create a sanctuary, no matter where you live.
Oh boy, ya know how satisfied you feel when your list gets shorter and stuff is getting crossed off?? GLOWING AND GIDDY, that’s how ya feel. The kitchen desk is finally in its place. It’s been a long project due to unforeseen “stuff”….you know…. life stuff that happens whenever you have a plan of your own…. but it’s done now. That ugly builder’s built-in desk is finally gone, replaced with a desk that fits my style. I’d had the idea for quite awhile that I wanted a replica of the primitive desk in my office for the kitchen. I bought that desk in the 80’s in a shop in Sisters, Oregon.
It was love at first sight. The little desk had started life as the check-in desk in the town’s first hotel. Then it was the desk in the old grange hall and then it languished for many years in the back of a storage room close by the original hotel. Until renovations were being made to most of the buildings in town and the desk ended up in the shop. I paid waay more than I had to spend. I remember telling my son, Trevor, that we would be eating beans for a week or two. He thought I was kidding. I wasn’t.
Few things have me spending money designated for food, I mean, come on……I love to eat. But this desk grabbed me and wouldn’t let go. I bought it and never regretted it. It’s simple style and old worn finish spoke to my heart. It moved with me. Many times. It was one of the few things that I never sold, nor even thought about selling in order to move to a new place. It had to stay with me.
As luck and the stars aligned, I met Mr B and the desk became part of our home together. Then we decided to move into a new house. Imagine my horror when we went to place the desk in its designated spot and it was two inches too large. TWO INCHES!!!! The builders got it wrong. Geesh! and other bad words. So the desk went to live in the family room until I could decide what to do with it. And I got a built-in from the builder. Eeeegad. I hated that thing. Eventually my desk ended up in the 3rd bedroom, aka my office, where it still sits today. It’s home to my computer and several piles of papers. I love it as much as I did when I ate beans for two weeks. Altho I’m never again going to eat beans for two weeks. I have my bean eating limits.
I knew I wanted a replica of my desk for the kitchen. Mr B spent a couple of days eyeballing and measuring, and then built a sweet little desk for me, almost like the original. The drawer in the new one is bigger (we have lots of junk supplies to store in it) and of course it’s sized to fit the space. But otherwise it’s a petite version of my desk. When he finished the building part he turned it over to me for the finishing part. I am also responsible for all the patching, texturing and painting in the house. We make a good team. Division of labor and all that. Besides, building things involves math. I’m allergic to math. I get hives when faced with a problem that requires any knowledge beyond ¼,½, ¾ or an inch. Those I have mastered. Beyond that I plead ignorance. Hives are not fun. Just sayin.
I am in the process of lightening the look in the house, and if you’ve been following me for awhile, you know I love modern farmhouse style and painted furniture. I decided to paint my new desk. Our kitchen has stained cabinets and there are lots of them. I wanted needed something to lighten the look which is why I went with creamy subway tile and light granite. But I wanted needed more white. I stained the desk first so a bit of wood would show as the desk aged and got dinged up. I did a few dings just for fun and then painted it.
I used my go to color from Lowes, Valspar”Honey Vanilla,” in flat (previously known as “Hotel Churchill Vanilla”). It’s a creamy ivory, very soft, and blends well with my other favorite white paint, Rustoleum’s “Shell White,” (in a spray) that I use when I want a hard finish (it’s oil based so dries hard). Valspar also offers Honey Vanilla in a spray in both a flat finish and gloss. A nice change for painted furniture without the brush strokes.
Can I say how much I love this little desk??? I have LARGE LOVE, it gives me the feels and heart eyes. I would love to find a vintage look phone that is wired for Caller ID and voice mail and all the modern technology we need today. But for now the ugly cordless stays…. marring what would be a perfect vignette. But as I told someone earlier today, we actually live in our house, I don’t hide the TV or the stainless appliances. We’re all about function here in the Brown house. OH, THAT’S A BIG FAT LIE. There’s no WE, only one of us is all about function. The other one is all about form. If I told you I was the one all about function would you believe me?
Now that I have two desks will I be any neater??? Um, probably not, OK…..nope. Oh, the new desk is staged and looks so cute. But wait a couple of weeks and it will be covered in coupons, torn out sheets of magazines and unopened mail reminding me that my subscriptions are due for those magazines that I enjoy ripping apart. Junk mail that lies there for days because I hate touching junk mail, I detest having to rip out the little cellophane windows and going through the contents to remove what can’t be recycled. GAH! For now it’s too cute to junk up with papers and bits…..so maybe because I love it I will keep it neat. Pray for me…..and World Peace.
For now the vintage stapler has pride of place. And the old silver goblets for supplies… Who would want to cover those up with junk mail??? It’s always the details that get me. Today I am a happy woman with at least one neat desk….. Someday when we change up my office I want to get a desk for the computer so that I can keep my antique desk just for writing, as in hand writing notes to friends, in cursive. Yeah….someday.
Create the home you see in your heart. Create a sanctuary no matter where you live.
Sometimes we are are own worst enemy. We allow envy and jealousy to control the way we look at our homes and the things we have.
You get up in the morning and walk through your home and instead of smiling and feeling grateful, you look around and sigh and wish you had…..more….. better….. newer…..the house that belongs to your neighbor, your favorite blogger, your best friend. And just like that, your day is spoiled. You lose sight of what you HAVE by playing the envy game.
The ability to head to facebook or instagram to look at the beautiful photos can be relaxing and fun. It can also lead to discontent. Everyone seems to be happier than you, have more. Every aspect of their lives seems perfect. Trips you’ll never take, movies you won’t see, a loving marriage. Beautiful, intelligent children. Even their dogs appear to be smarter than yours. Don’t these people ever get a pimple??? Have a sink full of dirty dishes? Have a room in their home that’s less than perfect??? The answers are of course; Yes, yes and yes…..of course they do. But the only photos shown are rooms perfectly staged, kids with clean faces and sinks that sparkle.
Social media can help us connect or reconnect with friends, it can inspire us to become better humans, it can give us information to help make our lives better, it can amuse us or provide support during times of crisis. It can also be a slippery slope into envy and depression…..the “why-can’t-I have, be-like-them, I-want-that…. thought process that robs us of contentment. Pinterest is loaded with images that are stunning, yes, but those images can also lead to feelings of, “I’ll never have a beautiful home”. “I can’t do that.” “I need a bigger house.” “I wish….”
Before you allow yourself to tumble down that slope, take a look around. Do you have a roof over your head? Clothes to wear? A bed to sleep in? Food to eat? Clean water to drink? You are blessed!
Stop wanting what everyone else has and think about what you already have. Can you improve it? Then take steps to do so. Clean it until it sparkles. Purge junk and outdated decor. Save your pennies and wait until you can afford to take that trip, buy those shoes, get a new bed. Small homes and rooms can be as beautifully designed as large ones. I’ve been in large, million dollar homes that had no personality or character, filled with the latest fad, but without warmth.
I’ve also been in tiny homes that were decorated in such a way that they lived large and were filled with beauty. Decorating your home with things that speak to your heart is much more important than having the latest trend. This doesn’t mean you can’t have some fun and follow a trend…..if you love it and can add a bit of it to spice up your decor, go for it and enjoy it. Just don’t let it consume you and lead you to forget to treasure what you already have.
Realize that whatever your financial situation, you can have enough. Opt for classic, never go-out-of-style materials, and decorate your home with what YOU love, not what the magazines and blogs are pushing at any given moment. Instead of thinking, “oh geez, I want that!” Stop for a second and remember in six months or a year these people may be living with out-dated things and will be spending money on the next big thing, while trying to unload the crap that now one wants. While you??? You are basking in the home that is decorated with things that stand the test of time. It won’t give you a bigger home or one with bigger rooms, and I can’t promise you won’t be living with a sink full of dirty dishes from time to time, but great style isn’t about bigger or newer. It’s about heart. As in the things that speak to yours.
Make your home your sanctuary, no matter if yours is big or small, located in the city, the country or the burbs. It’s a matter of heart, not money. Create the home you see in your heart. You deserve to live in a sanctuary.
Ever wonder what “style” you are? Many people do. It’s one of the topics discussed frequently in decorating groups on Facebook. You join a group of a certain style, only to find out that’s not the style you thought it was. Facebook groups can be confusing. For instance, let’s take “Farmhouse Style,” it sounds simple and straight forward, but it is NOT. There are sub-categories of farmhouse style. There’s Industrial Farmhouse, Cottage Farmhouse, Romantic Farmhouse, Prairie Farmhouse, Shabby Farmhouse…..whatever descriptive word placed in front of “Farmhouse” can be a style. Ditto for the “Cottage” look. There are as many sub-categories for cottage as there are for farmhouse. And the creator of your chosen group may have a specific version of your style in mind.
Recognize that some styles are straight forward, Mid Century Modern, Primitive (or Prim as it’s known) have a very distinct look. So do Colonial and Art Deco. Other styles seem to blend and morph into one another. And trust me, people have strong opinions on what is, or isn’t a “style.” Fair warning: This is a photo and text heavy post.
So, how do you know where you fit in the style you think you like? Or are you even the style you think you are??? How do you figure it out? There are some things you can do to help identify what style you love. Or what mix of styles. I’m not a purist and don’t fit into a neat category anymore. I’ve always loved country style. And I’ve gone through many phases over the decades. But I know I’m a blend of Country (Farmhouse) with a little Cottage thrown in. So that’s where I started. But what if you don’t know? Don’t have any idea?
What if you are tired of your current look (or non-look if you are still living with cast offs from in-laws)? You’ll have to do your homework. But it’s so worth it in the end. Trust me.
Begin by taking inventory in your own home. What do you love? A vintage chair inherited from a Great Aunt? A modern ghost chair you bought at a high end furniture store? Do you love your sofa? Your bed? The trim around your doors? Take notes, make a list. What do you dislike? This is just as important as what you do like. Make a separate “dislike” list.
Visit some model homes in your area. Take pictures of features you like. (ask permission.) Do you like a certain color on the wall? Ask what color it is and the brand. Do you like the curtains and draperies? The accessories? The furniture? Is there anything you don’t like? Take photos and notes.
Look through decorating books. Your local library will have a well stocked section of design and architecture. Check out books on the specific styles you think you like. Use your cell phone to take photos of pages that appeal to you. Browse through magazines. That’s where I started many years ago, long before Facebook and Pinterest, I was a magazine addict subscriber. I ripped out pages of rooms I liked and put together a notebook of tear sheets. I still have it and I still browse through it, looking for ideas to incorporate. Every couple of years I remove pages that no longer appeal to me and add some that I’m now interested in.
I still subscribe to lots of magazines, old addictions habits die hard it seems. If you don’t subscribe, go to your local thrift stores. Many of them have bins of old decorating magazines and books. Antique stores often offer bundles of past issues of decorating magazines. Buy those and use them for your tear sheets. Make notes on the pages of things that you like. Don’t leaf through a magazine quickly and think an image has nothing to offer. You may not like the color or the sofa of the room pictured, but how is it styled? Do you love the collection on the shelves? Like the panels at the windows? Perhaps the trim around the windows catches your eye. Make notes, for these are all clues.
This is the digital age and most people don’t want to bother with tear sheets, if that’s you, head to Pinterest…. if you are one of the three people in the world that haven’t already. Create “boards” for things you like. You can create as many boards as you want. I have well over twenty. (Is this a lot?) You may want one for paint colors, lighting, furniture, individual rooms, whatever keeps you organized. Or you can make ones for specific styles, American Farmhouse, Cottage, Mid Century Modern, BoHo….whatever. Then start pinning images you love.
You’ll soon notice that you are drawn to one or two styles. Then you can start researching those. Google the style(s) you like for more information. Subscribe to blogs. There are dozens of blogs, maybe hundreds. There is a blog dedicated to every style ever thought of. As you get closer to identifying what you love, start to unsubscribe to those blogs that don’t pertain to the style(s) that you are drawn to, delete the images from your Pinterest boards that don’t really support the look you want. It will become obvious what style or combination of styles you like.
And don’t worry if you love elements of several styles. Many of them play nice together and can live harmoniously in the same room. Right now you just want to identify the style or styles that seem to call your name.
Why should you go to all this trouble with lists and research???
It will help prevent investing money in things that don’t really reflect who you are. Buying furniture and accessories can get expensive. Transitioning to a new style and buying all new things because you think you like it, and two months later you’re wondering what you were thinking….. can be a financial nightmare, not to mention all that time wasted. If you know ahead of time that you are drawn to colonial style you won’t be tempted to buy that cute cottage style table. OK, you’ll be tempted, but you won’t actually purchase it. And for sure you won’t get caught up in the latest decorating trend. Refining your style and integrating it into your home is for another post. For now, enjoy the process of finding out who you are.
Loving your surroundings, feeling comfortable in your rooms is imperative in creating a sanctuary. And you deserve to live in a sanctuary, no matter the size of your home, where it’s located, or the money available to design and decorate your space, the key is to be YOU and then find those things that speak to your heart.
Create the home you see in your heart. Create your sanctuary, one room at a time.
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