family – Hunt & Gather Home

architecture, books, historic preservation, Uncategorized

The Story of Buildings

September 14, 2017September 13, 2017 Hunt and Gather Home

School is back in session and that means I’m on a roll with our family’s routines. Nightly routine, morning routine, homework routine, exercise routine, meal planning, college football schedule, soccer practice….I could go on and on.

Perhaps my love of routine has something to do with my desire to be in control of my life, which I know is never truly possible nor do I actually want it to be, but I do like knowing that I have the ability, for the most part, to craft a schedule with a rhythm that suits our family. As much as we love travel and adventure, we also love being at home. There are a few elements of our routine that we’ve made a point to commit to this year. Perhaps the most rewarding has been nightly reading with our kids.

It’s relatively easy to send my 4th grader to his room to read for 30 minutes in the evening. It’s not that hard to put aside 10 minutes to help my Kindergartener work through an early reader. It is nearly impossible to to wrangle two boys, a hard-working hubby, and my never-slow-down-self to the front porch swing to read a book aloud and together each evening. Miraculously, we have a couple-evenings-a-week streak going for us. I even think we’re all enjoying it!

It’s no secret that I’ve hand-picked many books in my kids’ library specifically because they discuss my favorite subject: architecture. The more I study and work in the fields of preservation and design, I can’t shake my observation that we have so much room for improvement in the way we shape our built environment. It’s really important to me to pass along to my boys a way of seeing our world that considers buildings old and new. Buildings can “tell” us about ourselves through their architecture, but we need eyes to see and an architectural language to translate their message. The Story of Buildings opens children’s eyes to all types of architecture, providing a thoughtful and design-focused perspective of our world.

When we disregard our historic built environment and are apathetic about new construction, we let quick, cheap, and easy rule the day. Whether we acknowlegde it or not, buildings contribute to the way a place makes us feel, and that sense of place is one of the most important factors in creating a vibrant, healthy community.

My kids probably haven’t picked all of this up from our recent nightly readings, but it’s my hope that their little brains absorb the fact that architecture matters. It’s powerful. It visually tells us what people value and what they do not.

People build buildings for purposes other than practical ones. They want them to show others what they care about and what they believe in. So they make them as beautiful as possible – or sometimes, if they’re making a fortress or prison, as scary as possible. And that’s why buildings change the way we feel. They can fill us with awe or calm, joy or dread. They can be so beautiful that we never want to leave or so ugly that we hurry out the door, vowing never to go back.

Buildings are far more than piles of brick or frames of steel, because every one, no matter how large or small, carries the dreams of the people who made it. When you look at a building, you wonder who lives or works there. When you visit a building, you ask yourself who built it and why. And as you stare at buildings and wonder about the people inside them, you understand that that’s what makes them so special.

Every building has a story to tell.

One of the reasons I believe historic preservation is important is because it allows buildings to continue to tell their stories – our stories – through architecture. I hope the passage above encourages you to give more thought to the built environment in which you live, work, and play, and if you need a book to guide you along the way, The Story of Buildings is a great one for the entire family.

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Gathered | An Outdoor Adventure Inspired Nursery

November 8, 2015November 7, 2015 Hunt and Gather Home

If you follow Hunt & Gather Home on Instagram, you know that I post a lot of historic preservation related photos. Preservation is one half of what Hunt & Gather Home is all about, and designing inspired and livable spaces within those restored walls is the other. While I love working on and in historic structures, having an older home is certainly not a requirement for a design project.

Case in point: Watson’s nursery. My dear friend, Christina, recently asked me to help her gather ideas for a nursery for her third child, and first little boy, Watson. Christina and her husband are currently renting with plans to buy soon. Not knowing what size room Watson will have when he arrives, Christina let me run free with the design. She gave me only one thing to go on: she loves the crib sheets and changing pad covers from Woolf with Me.

Knowing Christina and her husband well, one pattern jumped out among hundreds of designs. I knew the deer crib sheets would be a hit with her husband, a hunter, while Christina would approve of the cute design and gray color. To complement the modern hunting theme of the crib sheet and bring in a pop of color, I chose the gold arrow changing pad cover. You’ll find those basic pieces in each of the three design boards I created for Watson’s nursery.

Since Christina has two older (and precious) girls, an heirloom crib, a comfy glider, and a chest-of-drawers will need a few updates to get them ready for little brother. The crib will remain white, a nice contrast against the gray crib sheet. With the addition of a black and white buffalo check throw pillow the glider will be ready for late-night rocking. A quick coat of paint will transform the currently pink chest-of-drawers into a boy-friendly focal point in the room.

Because Christina already had the three main pieces of furniture for the nursery, I decided to have fun with the rugs and chest-of-drawers and make them the statement pieces in the room. Black, white, and gold can be used interchangeably in all three designs. All Christina needs to do is decide if she prefers orange or green accents!

As Christina, her husband and kids prepare to welcome Watson into their family, my hope is that these design boards will to guide them into creating a special space for a little boy who is sure to love all things outdoors.

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Hope and Heaviness: Living With Autism

October 6, 2014October 14, 2014 brandieneely

My son has autism.

No matter how many times I say it, whether aloud or inside of my head, it never really settles or makes any sense.

I know this is a blog about old house living, but bear with me. I’ll get there.

I won’t get into our story much, because I’d be typing for days, but I will tell you that it is something that changes you in a way I think nothing else, good or bad, really could. Imagine a time something awful happened in your life, the saddest you’ve ever been, the heaviness in your heart that sat there for a while. Eventually, though you are changed, things get somewhat better, there is a healing in your heart, to some extent.

Now imagine that the heaviness stays, a kind of numbness that can’t be described. You learn to mask it, to put on a brave face, despite it, but always it remains. The one person you love more than anything has to struggle every day to make sense of the world around him and make a path for himself somehow. Some days aren’t so bad. Some days the heaviness is unbearable and impossible to mask. Lately, the latter kind of days have been much more frequent for us than the former.

When I write or speak about my sweet William, it is always mostly positive. Despite the heaviness, there is still much light. He has taught me love, the REAL kind. He shows me every day what strength and courage are. He is my hero. He is my salvation. He has forced me to find the strength within myself that I never knew was there. He makes me a better person. Most importantly, I think, he has taught me gratitude. Because of him, I take no blessing for granted and I am able to see each day for what it really is–a beautiful, wonderful gift. He has taught me that sometimes tough times make for a happier life, because once we have conquered one obstacle, the next one doesn’t seem so impossible, and then the next and the next. He has taught me about grace and he has taught me to ask questions and to keep trying and that it is okay to cry.

All of those lessons I am thankful for, but I have also learned, rather recently, that I don’t always have to be brave or pretend to be Little Miss Sunshine. These hard, heavy days we’ve struggled through lately make me feel more like Little Miss Defeated and Little Miss Storm Cloud. I know “this, too, shall pass,” but still I cry for a season, watching my love struggle to make sense of a new school routine and a newfound emotion–anger. I used to pray for him to feel emotions. Now that he does, they seem to be caricatured, overdone, unbearable at times. I know it will take time for him to sort through it all, to put the pieces together in his brilliant mind and eventually make sense of it all. And then, perhaps, a season of peace. However short-lived, peace is always so very wonderful, despite the impending, inevitable next storm I know is to follow. I understand his anger. I am angry, too.

It is not easy to live this way. It is a struggle to go out and be around people. I know better than to shelter him too much. I understand the necessity of his being in normal social situations. However, I have never really felt comfortable in public with him, even when autism is not evident whatsoever. I simply want to keep him away from any possible confusion or frustration or judgment.

And that is the most important reason why our home, where we prefer to spend our time, must be a haven.

There is nothing particularly bright in our home, nothing that would stimulate him too much. Every chair and couch is cushy and cozy, perfect for the hours he some times sits, playing his games or reading about his latest obsession. The furniture is all positioned in a way that he can walk from one piece to the next with ease. Yes, I said walk. This calms him, for whatever reason. So I allow it. Not any where else. Just here.

This is Will’s room. The ship paintings above his iron bed (a steal at thirty dollars from a local flea market, only needed a quick coat of grey paint) are found pieces that took me three years to put together. They remind me of a puzzle, much like my William’s mind. They don’t fit together perfectly and they took a while to come by, but they still make sense to me. This is how I imagine he must see our world. They also remind me of the ships in Peter Pan, one of his favorite films. He often asks me to please find a way for us to go to Neverland. I figure our home is the closest he will ever get to that. That’s not something I take lightly. Neverland is an old house, I’m certain. They share the same charm and wonder.

See how nice and neat every thing is? That’s not staging. That’s just how it stays. Will has never played the way most children do. He simply has an obsession (never messy) and devotes all of his time to that. For a few years, he could sleep alone in his bed at night, but not these days. That’s why his bed stays made. He says sleeping alone gives him nightmares, and since reality is often a nightmare for him, I allow him to sleep with his sister or on a sleeping bag next to my bed, or even IN my bed from time to time. Sometimes when I pass by his room, it makes me sad. I think of his sister’s room, with stuff everywhere, full of life and personality and childhood normalcy. I imagine what his room would be like if he were not autistic. I imagine him getting home from school and sitting on the bed and maintaining a normal conversation with me about his day and maybe even soccer or karate and homework and having to fuss at him for leaving his things on his floor. I wonder if he will live in this room forever, if he will ever be able to leave this haven. I don’t know that I like either of the answers to that question.

In the meantime, I work to keep our home neutral and comfortable and safe for him. The claw foot tub gives him a spot to hide away when his sister is annoying him and the floors creaking beneath his feet let me know he is coming in my direction, making me smile, anticipating the hug I know comes with almost every encounter.

I apologize for rambling. I hate to ramble when I write. With these things, however, there is no way to really organize my thoughts or emotions, no way to make sense of any of it. My home is my therapy and writing is my therapy and this has, really, been a combination of those two, as I struggle through one of the toughest times autism has ever offered us. Sometimes I need to type out the words WE WILL GET THROUGH THIS before I can believe them.

See the shine in his eyes? It’s not always there. But, my God, when it is, it makes all the heaviness completely worth it. It makes me feel a much stronger and important emotion, the one that gets me through: HOPE.

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The Mimi Rose Chair

July 1, 2014October 14, 2014 Hunt and Gather Home

I have a confession. I’ve been hiding one section of the nursery update from you. This photo explains why:

My glider doesn’t match. It doesn’t match because It. Is. Maroon.

Recovering this chair is the project that I never got around to before Sweet P was born…or after. All Mamas have one (or more) of those projects. It’s allowed. No, REQUIRED.

But, we like to look on the bright side on this blog, so here are some good things about NOT having a perfectly new, soft and cozy, white cotton covered glider:

1. Babies spit up. A LOT.

2. Colors really don’t make a chair more comfortable.

3. A $60 estate sale find that once belonged to someone who was practically a grandmother to you is much more comfortable and comforting to feed and rock your sweet baby in than the $1500 Pottery Barn model.

5. Knowing that this grandmother figure spent hours praying in that chair (often for you and your family) increases its value tenfold.

4. Amen.

This glider belonged to my Mimi Rose.

A woman who loved me like a granddaughter – so much so that I didn’t realized she wasn’t my grandmother until I was about 5 or 6 years old.

A woman of great faith who prayed me six long hours home from college every Christmas break and countless times in between – and before and after for that matter.

A woman of great strength – coupled with a good dose of stubbornness – which really is the best kind of woman, don’t you think?

A woman who, though she’s gone from this earth, reminds me daily of the power of Love poured out freely and abundantly.

It is only fitting to name the chair after her: The Mimi Rose Chair.

My Mama recently helped me to craft a makeshift slipcover for the Mimi Rose Chair out of a white matelasse blanket. With this white cover, the chair now matches the room, but retains its comfortable, well-worn shape that cradles me and my babies when we rock and read, bringing old memories of comfort and warmth and creating new memories of the same.

I’m not sure what it is about chairs and what makes me love them so much. Perhaps it’s the fact that they cradle and keep us, supporting us when we feel too burdened to take another step. As a mother, I can think of no better chair for this purpose, for this journey is hard and long, and often I feel burdened beyond what I can bear. But, the Mimi Rose Chair reminds me that I am loved, that I am supported, that there is rest and peace and calm.

I may never get around to recovering it, and I’m okay with that.

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Christmas Eve Gift

December 24, 2013June 1, 2015 Hunt and Gather Home

My mother’s extended family has a tradition of trying to be the first one to say,”Christmas Eve Gift!” to other family members on Christmas Eve. I’m not sure how far this tradition goes back in her family or from where it originated, but I do know that it’s a tradition that I love and am doing my best to pass on to my kids. With cell phones, caller id, text, and modern technology in general, the game has lost a bit of its excitement and intrigue. I remember timidly answering the rotary phone with, “Christmas Eve Gift!” every time it rang and being slightly embarrassed when the caller, a non-family member, responded with a confused, “Excuse me?” But, when the caller was a family member, it was fun to “get” them! I think the person who never got caught was awarded with a gift to open on Christmas Eve. Apparently, that was not me!

For most of us, Christmastime is full of traditions, and it is difficult not to add more and more each year. This season, I’ve tried hard not to busy our family with too many activities, but to focus on a select few ,time-honored family traditions. Like many mothers who have gone before me, I’m learning the art of embracing tradition in a simple and meaningful way, rather than filling up everyday on our calendar with a holiday activity.

This year I left most of the Christmas decorations in the box, pulling out only those I really love. The only decorations I purchased were a Christmas tree and cedar garland for the mantle. I’m always surprised that year after year, just by varying their placement, the same decorations feel new.

While I admire all the beautiful themed homes that I see in magazines and on other blogs, I just can’t bring myself to decorate our tree in anything other than family ornaments. Each tells a story that I love sharing with my oldest son as we hang them on the tree. We almost opted for white lights this year, a first ever for our family, but my boys insisted on old-school colored bulbs.

One of my most favorite things to hang is a strand of vintage Christmas postcards from the 1930s that I found several years ago at a flea market. Each card has such a charming illustration and contains a note written in the most beautiful cursive script. Since our home was built in the late 20s, I like to imagine that many cards just like these passed through our door.

We’ve started our own tradition with Christmas cards that we receive during the season. We hang them in the hallway (and often leave them up all year) so that we are daily reminded of the blessing of sharing life with friends far and near.

Our stockings find a new location every year. This year, they chose the old chest of drawers-turned-tv console. They don’t match, but they do coordinate. I like that each stocking reflects a bit of its owners’ personality.

My kitchen is always a bit more whimsically decorated than the rest of the house. It is where I display the boys’ handmade gifts and keepsakes. The boys decorated their little white trees with colorful, shiny garland. A vintage santa cookie jar found its spot next to my coffee mugs, and the boys’ growing collection of Nutcrackers stationed themselves on the kitchen scale.

Decorating for Christmas helps us share the peace, hope, and joy of the season with our family and friends. What I love is that everyone shares the season in a different and unique way. There is not right or wrong way to decorate a tree or display your Christmas cards. Decorate as much or as little as you like. Continue traditions and start new ones. Sincerely sharing peace, hope, joy, and love is what Christmas is all about.

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Something To Remember My Life By

December 24, 2013October 14, 2014 brandieneely

As a photographer, I often accept money to capture others, but I could never place any value on a great photo. They are what we have to remember our lives by. When memory fails, they tell the stories that make up who we are. For years, I was unhappy with my Christmas tree decor, never feeling I could get it “right.” Then, last year, it hit me. PHOTOS! So I rummaged through the photos on my phone from that year, uploaded my favorites to the PostalPix app, and attached them to their respective branches on that happy day they came in the mail. It was therapeutic to hold those moments in my hand and display them for our family and guests to discuss. When the season ended, I put them together with a little twine, labeled 2012. I know we will look through them often and I hope someday my grandchildren will look at them and ask me about every captured moment, every smile, and see what a wonderful life our family has been blessed with.

Putting the photos up this year was just as joyous an occasion. Our tree tells the story of our year, filled with lost teeth, dance recitals, birthday parties, trips to Disney World and the lake, fun with friends, and lots of big smiles. This prepares me for the new year and gets me in the spirit of resolution, wondering how I can make the next even better for myself and my children. And wondering what will grace our tree next year…and the next…and the next…someday giving me a pile of photos, categorized by year, giving me something to remember my life by, chronicling the two most beautiful babies, my greatest gifts–the only ones I ever really need.

Merry, bright, and happy holidays to you and yours.