Old Windows - The Soul of a House (Revised)

Hi Friends! I'm having some technology issues (grrr!) with my last post: Old Windows - The Soul of a House. I'm not receiving your comments, new subscriptions, etc. and some readers are not receiving email notifications that they have a new post to read. 

So, I'm re-publishing my last post as a new one, hoping that may fix these issues. 

My apologies if you've already read this post. But if you commented before, I'd love for you to comment again since that's my favorite thing about blogging. Thanks for your understanding.

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 square shape makes up for it.

I bought it 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 flowers in each one.

Hanging the window by a ribbon instead of a nail gives it a romantic feel.

Another favorite window in 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.

But I say old windows are the soul of your house.

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