A couple of you have referred to my mom’s house lately, and Leslie, the blogger at Hostess of the Humble Bungalow, asked for more photos, so I snapped a few when I last visited.
I’ve already showed you the living room, the guest house, a silver spoon, and the portrait of the 3 oldest kids that hangs in the master bedroom. This time we’ll start in the kitchen. The kitchen window, to be precise, with sunrise, and reflections.
The kitchen sitting room, if that’s an an actual thing, also at sunrise. The brick fireplace was in place when mom and my stepfather moved in, they had the saltillo tiles installed throughout public areas of the ground floor. You see the extra height added to one of the little loveseats; my stepfather is tall.
The dining area, or nook, really, sits between the large living room and the kitchen. Which works well, since it’s both decorative and functional. Damn I love a good chandelier. The painting, lighting, clock and table are all Swedish. The chest of drawers is from Mom’s side, whether English or American I do not know. By the way, we never pass food through that window.
Down the hall, Mom’s chaise longue in the master bedroom. She’s set up a similar perch in every house she’s lived in since, um, 1965 at least. Swedish folk art on the walls, mohair throw on the chaise.
Let’s go upstairs. How about one of the the guest rooms? Or at least its wall? Framed Alice in Wonderland illustrations.
And bedding? I rather like the lace shams against a green and gray-blue floral duvet.
From the other guest balcony, one can survey Mom’s planters. They are somewhat meager these days, the drought regulations prevent outdoor water usage. Usually they’re full of hibiscus, geraniums, and sage.
And down the Hall of Infamy, another shot of our family photos by the dozens. A gallery wall, I guess we call it now.
Among the pictures, one of my mother’s mother, who we called Grandmama, sitting by the fire with little blond Mom and her brother and sister.
That really was their dog.
Up one final half flight of stairs, is Mom’s little office. Here she mixes red patterns. The gingham is fading.
And finally, in that same office, the story cabinet. Mom collected curios, and kept them here. The grandchildren were allowed to come and pick one in the evenings, and my mother would make up a story and tell it to them.
Thank you for the photo request. I realize that in the taking, I have also caught the place where I came with my children for more than 20 years. They remember Granny’s house as part of their lives, even though the grownups have grown forgetful. Mom meant to make a home and a space for her whole family, and she did it with a generous spirit and eye.