It feels good to sit and return to the warmth of this page. Warmth… that’s truly what this space feels like to me, and I hope it feels that way to you too.
As I reflect on it all, I sometimes wonder if my words and pictures bring value to this chaotic world. And then I’m reminded that the Lord created the home… the family core… as the very place where passions grow and dreams are given life. Around the kitchen table. In the quiet of the sunroom. Curled up in a cozy bed in your favorite pajamas with your spouse and babies.
Home is where the heart is.
Because I was blessed to grow up in loving, cozy surroundings, I understand how much the safety of a home means. And to those who may not have had the same experience, I want you to know this: your past does not define you… it teaches you.
I have known sad and lonely seasons. But because I had love, I was able to carry on. To trek forward.
These posts are dedicated to many. But this one, in particular, is simply a way to share the value of a cozy home. It doesn’t have to be perfect. In fact, imperfections are beautiful.
To me, a home is where the soul meets the sunlight. And when it’s adorned with love, it dances.
This season feels a little like winter…much like the sky and ground outside. I’m learning the art of letting go of expectations and embracing what’s new. Moving has a way of humbling you. So does starting over. There are boxes still waiting to be unpacked, and corners that don’t quite feel finished yet.
A few weeks ago, our incredibly patient contractor packed up his tools and checked off the last item on his list… for now. (He’ll be back for the kitchen remodel…stay tuned!) And while there’s still plenty to do, something shifted.
Physically, we’re settling in. But mentally and emotionally, we’re beginning to exhale.
This is the view from my bed… the plantation shutters in cozy cream, the trees with outstretched arms, all of this tucked in a cozy corner.
It’s quickly become my favorite place to land.
Though I haven’t had much time to actually sit in it yet and soak up the landscape. My beautiful German shepherd, Isabella, has claimed it has her own. She sleeps there every night and as always the blankets are rarely folded perfectly. But that’s the beauty of it. It’s lived in. It’s ours.
And this chair… it holds deep meaning.
My mom bought it for us when Cannon finally came home after six months in the hospital. It will always represent rest after endurance… a place of rest after a long fight.
This house is laid out in a more traditional way than our previous open, modern space, and I’m finding that I love the defined rooms. This chair can extend into a chaise or transition into a classic chair and ottoman… which feels very “me.” It’s from Rowe Furniture and has moved with us through many seasons.
And the rug? Hands down my favorite HomeGoods find of all time. It has that Turkish needlepoint feel… rich, old world, almost storied. I paid $250 for it and have been searching for another ever since.
I’m drawn to pieces that feel collected rather than purchased all at once. Soft blues. Creams. Warm browns. Natural wood. I tend to keep larger pieces neutral and let color show up in art and paintings… layered in over time, like memories.
Some pieces in a home are beautiful. Others are sacred.
This pagoda mirror is both.
It once hung in my husband’s grandmother’s formal living room… between two double doors that opened to the lake. If you stood in that room, you could see water glistening just beyond it. That mirror reflected decades of family, holidays, and quiet afternoons.
The first time I walked into her home, I remember noticing it immediately. I told her how beautiful it was. She smiled… not because I complimented it, but because I understood it.
She had an eye for timeless design. Solid wood. Legacy brands like Henredon and Century. Furniture built to last. Quality meant to carry a lifetime of memories.
Her grandson… the love of my life… was the apple of her eye. The bond they shared shaped so much of the man he is today. Steady. Kind. Quietly strong.
When she told me she wanted me to have this mirror… that she was leaving it to me… I was stunned. It wasn’t just decor. It was trust. It was legacy. It was her saying, You see what I see.
In the same manner, she passed down her monogrammed mink neck collar and her beloved sterling silver flatware… pieces she loved, and now pieces we get to use and cherish.
As we hung the mirror ourselves, ladder still beside it, I caught my husband’s smile. It wasn’t perfectly finished and yet somehow that felt fitting.
She passed away weeks ago at 99, just shy of her 100th birthday. And more than ever, these pieces feel close. I love that when my husband walks past that mirror, he feels her there… reminded of love in a cozy, timeless space.
Now for the details… because as much as I love a story, I love the why behind every choice.
Paint can either make or break a space. I’m always drawn to creams and earth tones… soft, layered, tone on tone. Ceiling to wall to trim, I love when everything feels wrapped in the same warmth.
After searching Pinterest every night before bed (and texting my mom), I found the one. Farrow & Ball White Tie. Our contractor color-matched it in Behr, and it gave us that quiet, buttery cream I had been chasing.
Originally, I dreamed of replacing all the upstairs carpet with an indoor-outdoor black with a cream diamond outline. It would have been dramatic and graphic… very me.
But with two boys, a big dog, and friends constantly in and out, we decided to invest that money elsewhere. And honestly? When we eventually sell, I imagine someone will either replace it or install hardwoods anyway.
Next is Cannon’s room. He’s an old soul… thoughtful, steady, drawn to history. So we kept the same White Tie cream and decided the color would come through books, collected art, and layered pieces over time.
His bed is upholstered in a cream and denim blue pattern that almost reads like linen. It’s subtle but strong…. a stand out piece… the kind that anchors a room without overpowering it. I layered it with soft creams and baby blues, mostly classic Italian cottons and woven blankets we’ve collected over time.
We’re slowly hanging photos and finding the right paintings. I tend to think lately that sometimes the beauty is in the becoming. Not everything has to be finished all at once.
My youngest, Emerson… much like his momma… wanted a color that feels calm and comforting., the same way White Tie does. We went total tone-on-tone, ceiling to floor, and it honestly makes me smile every time I walk by. The story behind this room is what gets me, though. I’m over here trying to be detailed and organized, showing him all these “best blues,” and he chooses one based on the name: Water’s Edge. And he was so certain. He didn’t want to test a sample. He didn’t want to “think on it.” He just said, That’s it. I was almost envious of his decision-making skills–direct, decisive, and completely to the point. It’s the energy I want but don’t always have!
And it fits him– because Emerson loves fish more than anything… maybe even more than playing football. So “Waters Edge” wasn’t just the perfect name– it’s the perfect moody blue.
One of my favorite snaps of cozy corners so far is this one below, where Cannon is holding up two beautiful French-inspired gold candle sconces–thrifted and somehow they’re just right. If that isn’t me, I don’t know what is!
Still to come: brass outlet covers. kitchen countertops, the master bath, a small garden moment with boxwoods and roses, more thrifted finds, and hopefully a few beautiful rugs–some with color, some in that soft neutral direction I always come back to. And maybe a leopard staircase runner… because I can’t help myself. So dreamy.
With Love,
Erica
Salty Blonde Living
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