Earlier this week, Mrs G. asked her blog friends to join her in throwing a blog open house. She wrote, “Reader, what is the heart of your home? What room in your house makes you breathe easier — makes you feel genuinely content?”
The heart of our home, for me, is the kitchen that I designed for our 1908 house. As an architect, I spend my days (and some nights) designing homes in which other people will live. This kitchen is only the second room that I’ve created to be just the way that Paul and I wanted it. We gutted the entire room, down to the studs, and then put it back together (with the help of a very skilled contractor). A mix of modern and traditional, hard edges and soft detail, black & white and vivid color, it’s the room in which I feel most comfortable, most myself, most at home.
In our kitchen, I am surrounded by reminders of people I love, and who love us: the dishes and cookware we received as wedding presents, my grandmother’s Fiestaware, the kitchen elf brought by a friend shortly after Paul’s cancer surgery, the cheery sunflower plate that my parents brought us from Italy.
Tucked into a corner, between the door to the living room and the opening to the breakfast nook/back door, is one of my favorite bits of the kitchen. This bookshelf now holds most of our cookbooks. The little countertop was intended to be a place for the telephone, cell phone chargers, note pads and pens. In reality, it also collects all the pennies and little scraps of paper that follow us home. It’s also where we keep one of the most well-used tools in our house: the cat hair roller.
The long, sometimes funny story of our long, sometimes painful kitchen remodel was blogged and photographed in
agonizing detail. I’m thrilled with the results (as long as I ignore the bits of tiling and painting we haven’t yet finished), and am thankful on a daily basis that we have this warm, beautiful space in which to cook and eat, hang out with family and friends, sit at our little table and look out at the world back yard.
Sergei likes the kitchen, too, especially when there are carrots fresh from the farmers market with their lovely, frilly tops sitting on the counter. (Bad kitty! You know better than to do that when we have company!)