Tag: #nesting

Curating a Home

Posted on by The Retired Alchemist

Most retirees, at some point, reconsider their living options, because, well… life is different now. Once the kids have left the nest and we are no longer tethered to a job, we start to reevaluate our living space. We don’t need to be within a reasonable commute to work anymore. We don’t need four bedrooms and three bathrooms now that the kids have homes of their own. And do we really want to continue to maintain that large yard? What fit our lives for years, may no longer meet the needs of our retired, empty nest lifestyle. Now what?

The beauty of it is, you are free to move wherever you like. It could be closer to grandkids. It could be seeking warmer weather. Maybe it is finally living where your heart takes you, in the woods or near the ocean. For many retirees, it is downsizing. The key is to evaluate your priorities and determine what would make this phase of your life richer and more meaningful. For us, it was downsizing, moving closer to town and being near a lake. Wherever you move, you have to start again… with four blank walls.

Four blank walls

Four blank walls. They could be anywhere: a doctor’s office, a nursing home, a restaurant… or a brand-new house. They are just walls. What transforms them into a space that welcomes you? A space that makes you want to put your feet up. A feeling of warmth that prompts you to settle in and have one more cup of coffee. Have you ever noticed that when you walk into some houses, they feel comfy/cozy and make you want to sink into a chair for a long chat? Others feel sterile and stiff. How do we transform a house into a home?

If you have lived anywhere long enough, you have lots of experiences and memories created in your home. It holds you like a worn pair of comfy slippers. You know which doors squeak, you smile when you see that the ding in the ceiling from when your husband swung a golf club a little too high in the house, or the pen marks on the door trim marking a child’s growth each year. You remember the family dinners, the holidays celebrated and the games played on the living room floor. The walls resonate with warm memories. It is the life lived within the walls that transforms a house into a home. If you move, that starts over with just four blank walls. Such was the case with us.

I finally got up the nerve to put a nail in this blank wall last week and hung this one sole picture in our guest bathroom.

Transforming those four blank walls

We moved into our new house last fall. We spent hours with the drafter and contractor trying to construct a home that fit our needs as retired empty nesters. We wanted a house that was cozy and easy to maintain, but large enough to host family gatherings comfortably. We had the opportunity to pick out the cupboards, flooring, lighting, fixtures and a million other decisions, as it was being built. A new home is lovely and beautiful but also feels a little sterile.

You would think that we would have felt right at home once we moved the last piece of furniture in. The property felt like home since it was rebuilt on the same land I grew up on, but the house needed time. It needed to be curated. Shortly after we moved in, we took a trip to the ocean, then it was prep for the holidays, family visited from out of town, and then we spent some of the winter in Arizona. On top of this, daily life continues.

And so, we find ourselves in spring and many of our walls are still bare because I hate to put nail holes in the fresh, clear new walls. What if I change my mind, or it isn’t the right height, and I leave an extra hole? Hence, the bare walls, which cause conversations to echo.

Display your story

We bought this cabinet shortly after we got married. It has traveled with us from house to house. I covered it with milk paint and distressed it several years ago. The bird and bee nests are “roasidea” finds. The pitcher was a gift from my mom, and I recently scored this mirror at a vintage shop in town.

I love shopping at Home Goods as much as anyone and nothing can beat the convenience of Amazon and Wayfair for shopping online. But a home is not curated through retail shopping. It is built slowly, over time. I like to put together a blend of less expensive purchased items that make a house look updated, along with a few investment pieces and then the final touches are the very things that give your home personality and make it unique and interesting. And they do not happen overnight.

These final touches come three ways. First are the shared experiences and memories that occur within the walls, which I have written about before in the post The House that Built a Family. A house just feels more like home once you have hosted family and friends there.

The walls of our new home are starting to resonate with laughter and warm memories after hosting a couple brunches this spring.

The second thing that makes a house into a comfortable home is that there are signs of life going on in them. A loaf of bread is cooling on the counter. There are framed photos of family and friends. A fire is dancing in the fireplace. A knitting project sits in a basket, or a book is waiting to be read. Perhaps it is a plant thriving in the window. Life is happening. There is a heartbeat to the home.

The third thing that transforms a house into a home are the unique treasures we decorate with. Items that we love, value and have collected over the years. These are the things that have meaning to us… not just something picked off of a store shelf. We remember the trip we were on when we found the porcelain birds in an antique store on a rainy day at the ocean. It could be the tablescape we put together with Roadsidea we gathered with our sister on an outdoor adventure. It might be the treasured pitcher that your mom gave you years ago that reminds you of her.

When we moved, we had years of Stuff that we had to sift through and decide what would make the move. Years of good memories. I had to be ruthless as I eliminated items that no longer served us. I could not keep all of the glassware my mom gave me, so I had to choose the most significant. The ones that fit my style and evoked warm memories every time I looked at them. The hard part was releasing the rest.

The sewing machine cover my friend made for me set the bright colors for my office. The paper flowers remind me of the class my sister and I took together to learn how to make them (left). The shelf on the right tells part of my story, from gifts special people gave me, like the treasured book from my mom, to the mementos from trips (right).
I found the birds when DIL #2 and I went antiquing on a rainy afternoon at the ocean. I am filled with that wonderful memory each time I look at them (left). The vintage school bell is from Mr. U’s aunt when she taught in a one room schoolhouse (right). We ring it when we want to gather a big crowd together for dinner.
We salvaged the door that my grandpa put in the previous home over 65 years ago (left). We also had an accent wall built from the pine paneling in the previous home that my dad and grandpa milled. The shelf was the former fireplace mantel (right).

Curating a house into a home

Consider what treasured items make you smile and fill you up emotionally when you look at them. The ones that feel like a warm hug. If they are tucked in a cupboard or some place for safe keeping, pull them out because those are the very pieces that transform a house into a home. While they may not be as gorgeous as the stuff off of a Pottery Barn shelf, they are much more unique, chock full of character, and most importantly, they hold our stories.

A house is lived in immediately. A home is curated over time by filling it with meaningful items and happy memories. What are your treasured pieces… the things that make your heart sing every time you look at them? If they are hiding in a closet or basement, bring them out. If they need a fresh coat of paint, slap some on. Maybe it is the photo that you have been meaning to get enlarged and framed (guilty). Or perhaps it is the heirloom dishes that you hesitate to use for fear of breaking them. Pull them out, clean them off, fix them up and enjoy them because these are the very items that transform a house into a home.

Now I am going to go pound another hole in the wall. Happy decorating!

This Christmas cactus brings me joy because it began as a start off my mom’s plant.

Nesting

Posted on by The Retired Alchemist

Over the last several weeks I have been observing the swallows nesting in the birdhouse on our back patio. (Exciting life, I know.) Before moving in they visited the birdhouse several times to see if it was suitable. Then we watched as they determinedly began bringing in little sticks, mud and debris to build their nest. I envision them excited to create their home together and fill it with a family. Before long, we heard little chirping sounds from the birdhouse… the children have arrived! Life will never be the same.

Like people, once the babies were born, the parents spent most of their time taking care of them. In this case, finding bugs to bring back to the nest. Back and forth they went, removing waste and returning with food, as the chirping got louder and louder. Last week, the babies were poking their heads out of the birdhouse, checking out the world outside of their comfort zone. I kept a close eye on them, hoping to witness their first flight away from the nest. Then one morning, I was having my coffee and observing the final baby bird leaning out of the nest as his momma brought him, what turned out to be, his last meal at home. Then he leaned further out and whoosh, he pushed himself out and with a few wobbly flaps of his wings, he was gone. Out to start his own adventures into the world. The next morning, the nest was quiet. It got me to thinking about our own nest.

One of the baby birds peeking out of the birdhouse (left). The baby bird being fed breakfast (right).

We have been feathering our nest for years. Adding pieces of furniture, gadgets and other stuff that would make it more functional and comfortable. As we prepare to downsize next year, I am now busy “unfeathering” our nest. Not a job for the faint of heart. So many memories. It feels like we spend the first two thirds of our life accumulating and the last third of it trying to get rid of what we accumulated. I have been working on this downsizing thing for a while, as I addressed in a post I wrote over a year ago, The Secret Life of Stuff.

I am trying to pawn off gift our children with as much stuff as I can. But as I read recently, your kids don’t want your %#*! and they really don’t want to sort through it after you pass from this earth. I am currently on both ends of that now. We are slowly going through and cleaning out my parents’ home that they raised six kids in. (My dad lives in a house in town now.) Again, so many memories. However, these memories are from the perspective of my own childhood, rather than that of a parent. It is the cycle of life, the remnants of a life well lived in our various nests.

I have to remind myself that the nest is just sticks and that, what we carry with us, what really matters, are the people. The nest is the carrying device for living out life. It does not hold the memories. Those have already been created and live in us. The nest does not shape and build us, family does. I love to live in a cozy, warm, inviting nest, but it is empty without the people that bring it to life.

Son #1 and his wife came to visit the nest last week. Since the rest of our kids live in the area, we were able to spend lots of time together as a family. It is always comforting to have your children back in your nest. It speaks of home and cozy and a reminder of those years when we were all together under one roof, safe and warm. I miss those years. But I have also grown to enjoy our quieter life and the freedom to come and go as we please. We can choose to watch a movie and have popcorn for dinner if neither of us feel like cooking that night.

Nests come and go, but the memories live on. Our four sons helped preserve those memories through an exceptionally thoughtful gift this week. When I retired, they created a book for me. Each of them wrote several pages of their memories growing up and words of kindness and appreciation that were beyond what I deserved. They planned to make one for their dad soon after, but life got busy. They joked that each of them kept waiting for one of the others to spearhead the project. Well, they finished it recently and decided to wait until they were all together this week to give it to their dad. A beautiful, heartfelt, tear inducing, tribute of their memories with their dad. And guess what? It wasn’t about nests; it was about people making lasting impressions on each other’s lives.

Mr. U and I with our four grown sons and the memory books that they made for each of us.

I hope you all had a wonderful 4th of July. As I mentioned, we enjoyed precious time with all of our immediate family, ate way too much food and tried to set the world on fire. THANK YOU to all of our current working military and our veterans. We are grateful.

The Fine Art of Pie Making

Posted on by The Retired Alchemist

What do you give the person who already has everything they need? Pie of course! Both my dad and Mr. U love strawberry rhubarb pie, so I make two every year for Father’s Day. One for each of them. Father’s Day is the perfect time to do this because the rhubarb is ripe. (I really should make two for Mr. U because I eat more than my share of it. Pie is one of my favorite desserts, especially with real whip cream on top.)

I don’t make pie very often for two reasons. One, it is loaded with fat and sugar, so we try not to indulge too frequently. And two, it is a long process to make. From start to finish, it takes me a good three hours. When I make pies, it is an event. Below is my ten-step process for making strawberry rhubarb pie. It just might help explain why it takes me so long.

Step I: Pick a bouquet of fragrant, fresh lilacs and put them in a blue pitcher. Light a candle to set out on the counter. Tell Alexa to play some relaxing piano music. This sets the mood.

Step II: Go outside and pick rhubarb stalks. Clean and chop them up. Go back outside to get more stalks because I did not get enough the first time. Repeat. It always takes more than I expect.

Step III: Wash the store-bought strawberries because we can’t seem to grow more than three damn strawberries.

Step IV: Sing and dance to the music as I wash and slice the fruit. Technically, rhubarb is a vegetable, but who wants to say they put vegetables in their pie? Unless, of course, it is a meat pie.

Step V: Mix up the fruit filling and set aside.

Step VI: Pull out my mom’s pie crust recipe that is typed on a recipe card using an old manual ink ribbon typewriter. The very one that I used to type letters for my dad for his business. (Typing was one of the most useful classes I ever took.)

Step VII: Feel sad and shed a tear because I miss my mom. She taught me how to make homemade pies, cookies and bread. She had two small bread pans that she would give me to make miniature loaves of bread while she made bigger family size loaves and cinnamon rolls.

Step VIII: Cut together the ingredients for the crust. Once it is the perfect consistency (whatever that is), roll it, dust with flour, repeat. And repeat. And repeat. Get uneven edges and hopelessly try to repair them.

Step IX: Pull out my Polish Pottery pie plate that my mom gave me. Shed a few more tears. Layer the bottom crust, fruit and top crust. Forget to dab the fruit with butter, so gently pull the top crust back and do that.

Step X: Place the pies in the oven and sit back to smell them cooking. Until you realize that you forgot to put a drip pan under them and that all of the sweet juice is burning onto the bottom of your oven. Remember to clean oven later.

Now can see why making pies takes me a lot longer than the average person. It is an event, but well worth it when you pull them out of the oven and set them on the cooling rack. Better yet when you pour yourself a hot cup of coffee and take that first delicious bite of warm pie with cool fresh whip cream on top. Ahhh. Yes, well worth the effort.

Have a good week and happy baking!