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On a long ago visit to my home, my late sister, Mary, haughtily informed me that my wallpaper border ‘mooed’ and my decor was outdated. To emphasize her point, she declared the faux sunflower bouquet on my
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kitchen table equally as out of date as the cows filing near the kitchen ceiling. Obviously, I was out of step with the times.
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I am reminded of my older sibling’s unflattering assessment of my country kitchen, each time I see a particularly irksome post on social media, urging readers to dispose of “these 25 things that cheapen your home.” For me, these unsolicited gems of wisdom always beg the question ‘why?’.
In outright defiance of my sister’s insistence that I get with the times, my house remains decorated from top to bottom with antiques and collectables reminiscent of a different era. While a few pieces were purchased from antique shops, most were inherited from family. The tall pine cupboard in my family room once belonged to my Aunt Margaret, while the roll top desk was a prized possession of my late husband, Alan. A pine chest of drawers once was owned by Uncle Bob and my coffee table is the sea chest brought from Ireland by my great grandmother as a girl of 17.
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My grandmother’s gingerbread clock, which once belonged to her mother-in-law, holds pride of place on a library table formerly owned by my aunt. Well over 100 years old, it tells the hour when and if so inclined. Its original face has darkened with time, but replacement is not an option. I look at it and see the past.
Living among my antiques and thrift store collectables, I find serenity in these pieces from yesterday. Other women once proudly set their holiday tables with the china pieces I prize and other hands, a century ago, wound my grandmother’s clock.
Side tables and walls are decorated with vintage family photos, showcasing a cast of characters from times long past. In one portrait, Great Aunt Annie models her Easter bonnet and in another, Uncle Bob sits proudly astride his horse, Stardust. In a show of rebellion against my sister’s criticism of my decorating style, I also display a rather unflattering photograph of her as a gawky teen, her hair worn in bunches and a short skirt revealing knobby knees.
My home’s decor well may be woefully out of date, but it tells a story important to me. Each heirloom piece is a reminder of the family member who once owned it and every collectable reminiscent of a gentler time. I do not mind that my wallpaper border ‘moos’ for my grandparents once were farmers and I live in a country home. I have shunned the minimalist look by surrounding myself with furniture and collectables meaningful to me. My home will never be “cheapened” by its decor. I prefer to think that it has been enriched by family history. Long may it moo in fields of sunflowers.
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