About ten years ago - maybe even longer (I've been here eleven and some change) - my sister-in-law and I spent a couple days together here, painting my living room. She and I have never been prone to doing lots of things together, but we had a good time bringing this house forward thirty years or so, brightening up its last paint job.
A decade later, the light, crisp blue has grown dingy and old, been dinged, and simply come to get on my nerves. Once upon a time, it reminded me of my grandmother's walls. But blue never has been my color.
Today, the sample of dark, warm terracotta is making promises, spread across a little bit of each wall. Yesterday, a bright day, it was warm but not overwhelming. Today, under overcast skies, it is dark, but not dim; reassuring, cozy, ready for winter, and ready to balance with a hint of cool - clay - too, for summer.
I've cleared the fireplace wall. Moved the furniture, shifted all the knickknacks, cleared the decor. I'll roll up the only rug in here right now, and make a trip to the store soon. This is such a rich change; I am excited to see it.
It's not dark, but it's grey, and a grey Saturday, lately, is so beautiful. Off to buy the paint - then home again, for my grungy painting clothes, for the beginning of the project.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment