Heroes Among Us

I wonder how amazing it would be to wake up each morning and step into this bright, sunny kitchen. It screams, “Good morning, beautiful. Sit down and have some orange juice.”

Right now, I’m pretending that I am eating homemade scones, gazing out the paned windows and watching birds dance in a birdbath. It’s serene. It’s inviting. And it’s crisp/clean and rough/rustic, all at the same time.

I’m not sure, but I think that’s what they call a “Fancy Buffalo.” (OK, so “they” is just little ol’ me.)

Here are a few more photos of my dream-room-of-the-moment. It’s even more amazing than you think. Plus, there are a million little stories behind it.

This kitchen, captured by Country Living photographer Keith Scott Morton, is the central room in a 1792 Connecticut farmhouse. It used to look like this until just a few years ago:

Now if that photo doesn’t make you love the new, improved kitchen even more, then you need to take another look. I’ll even help.

See, I told you. It’s even better the second time.

• It reminds me that everything has potential. Everything. Even a sad, drab kitchen. Even my little blog.
• The bare windows are perfect. This room wouldn’t be as powerful if it had blinds or shades or a valance. I like that it’s nekkid.
• Did you notice there are no wall cabinets? Also perfect. With all the cabinets below (and a pantry, I assume), that glorious window gets all the attention it deserves.
• The dropped ceiling? Also gone. Also perfect.
• Now to my favorite thing. Oh, glory to the heavens that the new owner left the centuries-old knotty ceiling beams. That is magic, people. There is something heartwarming about knowing the wood has been there for more than 200 years. The stories it could tell about the families it watched grow. Since the wood can’t talk, especially in a photo (duh), I’ll just have to use my imagination…

I imagine this is the room where a young Colonial wife cooked her first meal for her husband. And he loved it, even if it was overcooked.

Right outside where that big, beautiful window is now, I imagine a mother and daughter picking blackberries and storing them in their bonnets and aprons before bringing them inside to bake a cobbler.

I imagine a father rallying his children around the radio so they can listen to the latest Amos ‘n Andy or a speech by President Roosevelt.

I imagine a nervous couple, sitting at the table, drinking coffee and waiting for the doctor to emerge from the bedroom — with their newborn grandchild.

I imagine a family crying underneath those strong wood supports as they mourn the leader of their band, the one who died in Vietnam.

I imagine a free-spirited girl joyfully dancing around the kitchen after she receives a response to her Elvis fan letter.

I see a mother teaching her son to cook. I see a husband fixing the pipes and grumbling, but secretly loving the fact that his wife needs him for handyman duty. I see Thanksgiving dinners, birthday breakfasts and prayers before lunch.

I see full bellies. I see children scooting across the wood floor in their stocking feet. I see sadness. I see happiness. I see love.

I imagine a million, jillion memories that were made under those beautifully warped wood beams.

And I really, really want to live there.

****A couple of times a week, I’ll share my favorite room of the moment. That’s the great thing about daydreams, you can have them as often as you want! Favorites weren’t meant to have limits.

All people dream, but not equally. Those who dream by night in
the dusty recesses of their mind, wake in the morning to find
that it was vanity. But the dreamers of the day are dangerous people,
for they dream their dreams with open eyes, and make them come true.
--T.E. Lawrence (AKA Lawrence of Arabia) 

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• Today, I want to live here: Blizzard of white
• Today, I want to live here: Modern twist
• Today, I want to live here: Farmhouse-chic kitchen
• Today, I want to live here.
• Today, I want to live here: Diane Keaton’s California casa