Friday, May 6, 2016

Old Windows -- the Soul of a House

I love old windows
especially those with chippy white paint, flaky as a steaming hot biscuit,
or glass that's pitted and cracked like a rusty wheelbarrow left out in the rain.

It's those scars that tell a story.
Every little line, each tiny imperfection, is what makes each window (or individual), 
unique and perfect.

When the morning light streams through my old dining room window
it casts abstract patterns on the wall
that remind me of a French Impressionist painting.

Scattered throughout my home are several old window frames,
each different and each lovely, quietly telling their own stories. 
One is a tiny mullioned window in my bedroom.
The glass is missing but the shape makes up for it.

I bought it at an antique store in the mountains years ago 
and like to think it came out of a cabin tucked away in the mountains.

Inside the window frame are two equally tiny glass bottles with a sprig of flower in each one. 
Hanging the window by a ribbon instead of a nail gives it a romantic feel.

Another favorite window is a long rectangular one above my kitchen cupboards. 
I found this one at the Paris Street Market in Littleton, Colorado. 
The glass is intact and it's hanging from chains attached to the window hardware.

It makes a lovely backdrop for the collections on top of the cupboards. 
I hope it once lived in a big old Victorian with lace curtains framing it.

In my office I have a stained-glass window resting atop a little armoire 
(that's French for no closets!)
It's a small window just the right size for a small room 
and the colors are bright green, red and yellow with contrasting dark leading. 
Sometimes you need a perky window to brighten up a mostly white room.

Where did this one come from? 
Well, I got it at a yard sale but I imagine it was once in the front door of a little bungalow.

My most recent find was in the alley behind my house.
 It was a larger window that was warped and bent like a fragile old lady. 

We had to put a screw in her rib to keep her upright but she's found a home in my sunroom. 
She seems to stand a little straighter when the afternoon sun shines through her original glass panes and her thick paint reminds me of a sweet little grandma with too much makeup on.

At night, with the twinkly lights on, I think she adds a lot of character to a new room.

They say your eyes are the windows to your soul. 

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