In my last home, the kitchen's cheap linoleum tiles were pealed and cracked. The broken bits revealed an unattractive subfloor.
I tried to spruce it up. I hung a little shelf above the sink on the wall, to see some of my favorite treasures placed there, rather than the blank space wedged between tge cabinets. I put plants in the low window sills. I hung pink Swiss dots curtains on the extra long windows. But for all my trying, it was missing something. It did not feel like home.
I spend much of my day in the kitchen. Between preparing meals, cleaning up and escaping in there for a breather from the fray of the winter living area (it's a mass of pillows, cardboard, play food, cars, zoobs, blankets, crayons & all manner of odds & ends) most of my time is in that space.
With gratitude I can say I love my kitchen. It needs a bit of paint, but the window over looks a crab apple tree. Where I've heard told it baths the room pink in the spring. It's cabinets are large, & many. I spend my time listening to programming on local community radio, dancing when the children come to visit on the soft warm wood floors. Our current favorite tune, Tellow Submarine. We read books while eating our breakfast around the old enamel topped table. There is a place on the wall to hang my apron. A drawer for my linens. An old stove that although electric, is still welcoming. It feels enough like home to want to resize those pink Swiss dot curtains.
