A Whole New Look…

The boxes in our house have slowly started to empty with considerable help from Hubs and me.

I now have enough china to feed an army…only I no longer have an army to feed.  It is all sorted and ordered by past owners, (my mother-in-law and my mother) looks pretty and is available, via step stool, in a cupboard I have named, The Butler’s Pantry.


We have made several trips to the re-cycle place with our cardboard and paper wrappings, we’ve scoped out our nearby shopping centre and are close enough to a bustling city to enjoy rural living with urban convenience.

With all the rain our grass grows, the trees bud and apples are forming in our orchard.

The knick knacks we collected for the last thirty years still line the perimeter of our living room waiting for their final destination, the ballerinas poised for flight,


The de-clutter maxim continues to ring in my head,

“If it’s functional, beautiful or filled with memories…keep it, if not give it away.”

Our oriental rugs have found a home at the in-laws who are re-vamping the look of their abode.

Our oldest son face-timed me from California and had me show him around the disarray that was now our house,

“Hello, all you familiar things…” he said as he saw the knick knacks flashing past.

“It’s a mess,” I said reduntantly.

“But it’s good to see all the old stuff again…”

“Yes, I agree, but we don’t want to recreate the place on Collins, we are going for a whole new look.”

Furniture shopping has been at the top of our list for the past two weeks, but so far nothing has caught our attention to replace the dark brown furniture in the lounge.  Things lie in wait, pictures are propped against walls, lamps grace the floors, and books are piled two deep in cases.

Our kitchen, though, sparkles with the turquoise blue,


inspired by my cousin’s painting of the view from Whitstable in Kent across the Thames Estuary to Southend in Essex where Malia went to college for a year.


I’m slowly trying to make sense of bags of sea-shells from Galveston, boxes of chalk rock from Broadstairs and antique footlights that used to sit in the garden room untouched, un-noticed except for a bi-annual deep clean.


The name echoes with familiarity and embodies who we are, lovers and participants in the world of performing arts in all its genres, rock and roll, classical music, dance, drama, opera and musical theatre.

Footlights may be a great name for our country house but we are not in naming mode right now!

I am humbled by the sheer beauty of my surroundings in the heart of the Texas countryside and awoke to this beautiful view the other morning from my porch facing west,


Look at that mist!

Slowly, slowly, we are coming together.

All in God’s time.


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