There Is Beauty All Around...

So today my friend-that-I-haven't-met-yet-but-plan-to-someday wrote the following on her blog:

After I got home, I decided to look around my house. I love beautiful things. I love to surround myself with things that radiate happiness and beauty. Jane came home from school one day with a large branch of cherry blossoms. The colors were vibrant and gorgeous. Simple things like that allow me to feel special, happy, loved, and most of all... my favorite... feminine. We are women of a God who delights in his daughters to feel beautiful and adored. Whatever that is to you personally, don't let it go undone. It is in you safe and warm and no one can take that away from you...no one.

and I realized again that this is part of what's missing in my life. I look at her home and the homes of many of my friends, and they're filled with beauty and light and physical reminders of love and joy.

My world really isn't. It's not bad, but it's not what I'd call beautiful. The most beautiful things in my home are my kids. But they're gone most all of every day, taking their vibrancy, light, and beauty with them. And then I'm surrounded by function, basic forms, neutral colors, and dullness. Unless I go down and hang out in Bunch's room, that is.

I've recently tried to add some splashes of color to my wardrobe. This helps me feel a little more feminine and pretty...but my home and yard really lack right now. They always have.

I remember marveling at my best friend from childhood's home when I visited it for the first time. Neither of us grew up in "beautiful environments". I was living in the garage amidst the piles of junk, tools, car parts and storage. Inside, the house was no less cluttered and packratty. Likewise, my friend's home was a hodge podge of mismatched second-hand furniture and clutter (though I secretly envied the fact that her house itself was "nicer"...in a newer neighborhood with bigger homes than mine. Which seemed like a big key to being "cool" in my childhood).

Somehow my darling friend managed to create the nicest home for her husband and children. It's just lovely. The colors, furniture, decor, lack of clutter, organization, landscaping...it was so nice. The first time I visited, I was amazed. And flummoxed. Is it a gene I'm missing? I just don't have a clue where to start...and it all feels overwhelming.

I'm sure this missing link is why I've long been fascinated by those shows where they just come in with their team of designers and capable builders and redo a house or a room for the lucky family. If I'm ever commuting to work and watch a show on the plane (the only time I ever watch tv), that's the kind I watch. And as I watch my head will fill up with grandiose visions of how I could remake my house.

But then I look at my bank statement, and survey my creative/artistic ideas, and the motivation evaporates like an August rain in the desert. And yes, I know a can of paint can make a big difference. But it's the stuff beyond paint that stumps me. The Devil's in the details, as they say.

And then there's the issue of what style I'd have if I could have any one. I have no idea. I like them all as long as they're nicely done. I guess I'm least drawn to the modern look, but even that can be nice in a sparse kind of way. And certainly better than no style at all.

Still, I do so love being in peaceful, cheerful, beautiful places. Environments that provide uplifting sensuous experiences. It's good for the soul. I dream of someday having a cute, tidy cottage on the creek in our neighborhood. I don't believe I'd ever tire of the sound of the water rushing by. And I'm sure I'd love being in Nie's home. Maybe her beauty karma would rub off on me?

Meanwhile, a couple times a day I go stare at the tulips that pushed up through the earth this week in my back yard. They're perfect.