I was in a city bar recently, two glasses deep into the house-white when someone amongst our party asked the group what they thought their spirit animal is. I had immediate flashbacks to an exceptionally awkward job interview where a similar out of the blue question was asked.
Out of the blue. It's from the blue that my answer comes. I'm a bowerbird, fussing over my nest, filling it with beautiful objects (blue, and otherwise) that I've scavenged from just about everywhere. Yes, I relate to the bowerbird completely. The "otter" in the group replied, "that seems like a very florist answer". Is it? I think I was a bowerbird loong before I was a florist. I'm less a florist, and more a nester, a home-body, a frustrated interior designer. I only believe in beautiful things.
This past year, I overhauled the cutlery drawer by purging it of all plastic. I replaced the ugly plastic divider with a nicer wooden version and put baskets either side. All plastic handled cutlery was
thrown donated in favour of silver spoons, bone-handled knives, and wooden serving utensils. It was a total gentrification of the top kitchen drawer. My inspiration for this project was Catherine at In The Fields, previously A Country Farmhouse. The images from this post of her own kitchen drawer sparked in me a burning desire to cultivate my own rustic, beautifully mis-matched top drawer.
I'm not sure how many readers out there would get similarly excited over something as mundane and utilitarian as the cutlery drawer, but a true nester, a fellow bowerbird would understand irrevocably. Catherine is my style idol. The queen of collectables. And a fellow flower enthusiast. To say that I am a big admirer is falling short of the mark. Catherine and her husband are currently undergoing a second home restoration. Their first home featured on her A Country Farmhouse blog was something dreams are made of. Impossibly impeccable.
I try to hold most other aspects of our own nest to a similarly rigorous aesthetic standard. It is not always an easy task, because the man in
my our home doesn't recognise why the sheets and covers on the bed need to match, or why I need to buy another lamp, and trying to convince him of the beauty of coloured depression glass will be eternally futile. In his defence though, he thinks nothing of my buying yet another wicker basket, is in full-support of my quest for the perfect wing-back arm chair in which to read, and has readily accepted that the entire contents of our recently gentrified drawer require hand-washing and can never under any circumstances be put through the dishwasher. He's easily trained. I think i'll keep him.
Styling and Photographs by Moss & Vine