miracles on a monday

Miracles

Walt Whitman, 1819 - 1892

Why, who makes much of a miracle?
As to me I know of nothing else but miracles, 
Whether I walk the streets of Manhattan, 
Or dart my sight over the roofs of houses toward the sky, 
Or wade with naked feet along the beach just in the edge of
   the water, 
Or stand under trees in the woods, 
Or talk by day with any one I love, or sleep in the bed at night
   with any one I love, 
Or sit at table at dinner with the rest, 
Or look at strangers opposite me riding in the car, 
Or watch honey-bees busy around the hive of a summer
   forenoon, 
Or animals feeding in the fields, 
Or birds, or the wonderfulness of insects in the air, 
Or the wonderfulness of the sundown, or of stars shining so
   quiet and bright, 
Or the exquisite delicate thin curve of the new moon in spring; 
These with the rest, one and all, are to me miracles, 
The whole referring, yet each distinct and in its place.

To me every hour of the light and dark is a miracle,
Every cubic inch of space is a miracle,
Every square yard of the surface of the earth is spread with
   the same,
Every foot of the interior swarms with the same.

To me the sea is a continual miracle,
The fishes that swim—the rocks—the motion of the waves—
   the ships with men in them,
What stranger miracles are there?

It's easy to overlook miracles when we're caught up in the every day chaos of life. Our pastor shared this poem by Walt Whitman in church on Sunday, and it resonated with me. Whitman was right -- Miracles happen every single moment of every single day. How awesome is that?

On a personal note, Porter (our black lab) and I are both having surgery this week. If you don't mind saying a prayer for each of us (and for Jonathan, our caregiver), I would be very grateful. It's going to be a long week, and we could use all the positive energy we can get! 

beginnings of a white house

When it comes to painting the interior of a house, I tend to be attracted to polar opposites -- bright colors and creamy whites. When Jonathan and I bought our first home, the very first thing we did -- even before the furniture was moved -- was paint the rooms yellow, orange, turquoise and mocha. The colors felt beachy and were exactly what I wanted after two years in a bland apartment. After a few years of staring at those loud walls, I started to feel boxed in by my color choices. Jonathan hates to paint, but I convinced him that a switch to an all-white house would be a good idea. I started by painting our red adirondack chairs the white we selected (Dover White by Sherwin Williams), and a few weeks later, we started on the house. The hallway, living room, dining room, sunroom and bathroom were all Dover White by the time we finished. The space felt much bigger, and having a single color throughout made touch ups so easy. When we listed our house for sale less than a year later, the white walls were a huge selling feature because they were ready for any color and they looked fresh and classic. They made our 1,100 square foot cottage seem big, which isn't easy to do!

After all that paint work, it has taken me almost a year to convince Jonathan that we needed to paint our new house Dover White. Our new house, which was built in 1984, lacks the charming details of our 1950 cottage, but I knew white would still be a great choice. It makes any house seem timeless and more open, and it brightens dark spaces. Of our 3,000 square foot house, we knew the kitchen -- formerly painted a periwinkle blue and finished with a shiny, "Venetian" plaster -- would be the worst room to paint. We weren't fans of the color or the finish, and we spend quite a big of time in our kitchen, so we decided that's where we would begin. It was a monster project that involved lots and lots of sanding, even more cleaning, one coat of primer and two coats of Dover White. Because we are a bit crazy, we also painted our hallway at the same time. It was actually already painted a very boring flat white, and it looks so much better now that it's Dover White. Once I finish painting the frames on the gallery wall, I'll post some new photos of it. Here are some photos of the kitchen:

There are some things about this kitchen that we probably wouldn't have chosen ourselves, but overall it is a really efficient space that works well for us. 

why mississippi?

The South has been my home for 22 of my 30 years. Before I found myself in the small town of Booneville, Mississippi, I called the Royal Boroughs of Windsor and Maidenhead in Berkshire, England my home.

People always want to know how my family ended up in Mississippi. It's a long story, but this article sums it up quite nicely. A chance meeting over tennis initiated a love story that would span the generations. It would eventually lead my grandparents back to Italy for 30 years, where my American born father would meet my American born mother, who was studying abroad in Rome. My dad's career in the music industry sent them to England, where my sister and I were welcomed into the world. My grandparents retired to Mississippi in 1990, and our family joined them two years later. Because my parents chose Mississippi over California (where Joan lived), and my grandparents retired to Booneville instead of Meridian or Corinth (where they had previously lived), I shared a hometown with my future husband. Although our own love story didn't begin until we became neighbors (also by chance) at the University of Mississippi, many of our childhood memories and acquaintances are the same. After college, Jonathan's career brought us across the state line to Tennessee. At that time, we were ready for a break from Mississippi. We needed a fresh start.

Over the past eight years, we have happily adopted Tennessee as our new home, but all it takes is a weekend trip to Mississippi to remember where we -- and our parents, grandparents, great-grandparents and great-great-grandparents before us -- began. This article is a brilliant reminder that Mississippi is very much a part of our past, present and future. Our roots will always run back to Mississippi.

it's been that kind of week...

The inspiration isn't flowing this week. When I have those moments, it always seems like a good time to take a step back and reflect on what's important in life.

Our pastor sends an e-devotional that I read on an almost daily basis, and he included this quote in a recent email. It's a powerful statement that applies to everyone. I hope it inspires you today.