A Lady’s Lair

Here’s this week’s reflection. I hope it resonates with you and ask that, if you enjoyed, please comment and share on your social media. Heartfelt thanks for all your support!

Keeping the light on for you,

Carol

Early morning light peeks into this room where I sit wrapped in the hand crocheted embrace of female kin. The cup of coffee in my hands boasts the fragrance of toasted chestnuts; the splash of cream providing a silken palate. I savor the treasures and quietude before me.

Considered “too fancy” by some, this perennial space is where I prefer to start and end my day. An abundance of ancestral artifacts and trappings of ladyhood render the atmosphere calming and restorative. Most importantly, I hear the whispers of women in my past. I feel their presence here, young and old, shimmering individually and collectively with the changing light of each day.  

Here, the textures of life weave together whimsically. Soft chameleon colors provide solace. The play of subtle patterns create delicate surprises. Afghans retain their softness and character, and offer warm hugs in cooler seasons. The frill of lace, the simple utility of linen, the fortitude of hardwood, reflections in metals and mirrors, and the delicacy of porcelain reinforce and circumscribe a passion for honest and gracious living that has endured for generations. 

The mood is decidedly vintage and unabashedly feminine thanks to combined family collections. A bespoke quilt hangs from its hand-hewn cherry rack, demurely setting a comfortable tone upon entry. Hand painted floral plates command pride of place as a wall garden. A gaggle of handkerchiefs flit about in the breeze from an open window. The brood of brooches sits patiently under glass for lapels in search of chic adornment. Tittering teacups and saucers anxiously await their next soiree. Even the imposing fieldstone fireplace blushes in shades of rose, cream, and gray. All the grand dames are here with their pinkies noticeably raised. A sewing basket hints at the calming nature of hand stitching. Musical instruments retain memories of family performances. Multiple candles upon their quirky and traditional bases bring a warming glow to the evening. Candlelight, after all, makes everyone and everything ever more lovely. An antique sign offers a subtle reminder to “Count Your Blessings.”

Satisfying on so many levels, this room most importantly honors and connects me to women who have “walked life’s walk,” pressing ever onward through good times and bad, incorporating grace and beauty along the way. I am empowered by these heroines and aspire to their honesty, integrity, and legacy. 

As a woman raising two women, it is my desire for them to see and touch these mementos in the hope that it will encourage them to peek into their past and cultivate an appreciation for their ladylike heritage. As they sport eye rolls or offer placating comments, I am (quietly and smugly) convinced their souls will eventually open, just as mine did, when inevitable maturity rattles the fences of their contemporary paradigms. Interestingly, my daughters have designated this room as the only area suitable to display our Christmas tree. Well worn vintage ornaments have become “the new vibe” and hang out nicely with a linen and lace swaddling underneath. Seemingly unnoticed the remainder of the year, the Lady Lair is repeatedly the hands down choice in which to suitably gussy up and admire our faux conifer. Go figure. 

A vintage sampler continues to stand front and center regardless of the vignette iterations over the past years. A housewarming gift from a dear friend sixteen years ago, its hand-stitched pastel threads state: “The Blessing Of The House Is Contentment” – as true today as it was on the day presented. I could not have said it any better and I remain intensely grateful for this place where I can decompress, recharge, listen to the desires of my heart, and learn from the past.