Grass green, pale pink, sky blue, flowered wall paper, linear “Roberts” flowers, those are the layers we’ve discovered under our white paint in the office. They are all so beautiful, and sitting here, thinking about all the people and families who poured their style, taste and love, into our 102 year old home. . . I’m awed and don’t want to cover it all up (now that each chipping layer is exposed on one portion, of one small wall).
Chipping away these flies on the wall of our homes history, wondering about all the previous owners, and thinking about the decades… century (!) of love and memories etched into each layer.
The deepest layer of wall paper is paper bag brown with beautiful botanical book style flowers on it, and I am imagining it was once a sweet nursery full of golden books read by a darling chubby cheeked little baby girl, and a spindly white cradle rocking next to to the beautifully framed window where my gangly girls now hang out their bob haired heads to yell for they neighbor boys to come over.
And, the newest layers. The chalk walls, first words written and sounded out, serious stares of sleepy shuttered eyes. And of two sisters. Who are leaving big love and memories and marks.
I have fallen deeply for this home. Over, and over, and over again.
And am proud to hang a bit of it’s history in on my walls.