My Room

The Burrows Home belongs to the Burrows Family...and when I say it belongs to the Burrows Family, what I mean is, sometimes this home is chaotic and maybe everything isn't just the way I would like it all the time ever. I have a husband. I have 3 children whom I homeschool. They have a giant dog and 2 cats. Outside the home, I have 5 chickens. Our home is regularly tidied and usually somewhat sanitary, but it is difficult to have everything clean and beautiful all the time. And...I can't really have pretty things because EVERYTHING gets broken around here. So I've settled for a simple, humbly appointed, mostly sanitary, sometimes tidy home. It isn't MY home, after all. It is OURS, and I want everyone to feel comfortable and at ease here in our place away from the outside world. A place where we can all be ourselves and enjoy one another's company without pretense.

BUT...I do need that one place where I can close the door and feel peace too, where I can be at ease and be myself, where everything does not get broken, where pets do not reside with their aromas and their shedding, and where I can enjoy some quiet time as I craft, create, write, read, or work. And sometimes sleep when Nick snores too much or I can't get comfy in our shared bed (or when the chaos of untidiness is too much for me in the master bedroom, which my husband has rather appropriated with his mountains of clothing and STUFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFF!

So, a few months ago I laid claim to the guest room. The picture at the top is the guest bed. The cats are normally entirely unwelcome, but someone had left the door open this day, and they did look awfully sweet. I snapped a picture and then shooed them off with my lint roller, and then promptly rolled away any evidence that they'd been here. I just love my bohemian bedding and piles of pillows! This is a bright and happy, yet calming and centering space. I must have had myself in mind (and didn't know it) when I chose the bedding.

Here below we have a recent find. It came to me from a photographer who no longer needed it as a prop. It was painted an aqua/turquoise color, so I brought it home and sprayed it down with a couple coats of mustardy yellow and hung it up to display some fun and happy memories and small paintings of my own. I apologize that the photograph is a wee blurry, but the lighting in here is not good for photography. It is, however, perfect for ME.

The painting below was done by my Great-aunt Mildred, and it hung in my grandparents' home for as long as I ever remembered, until my grandmother died. Grandpa stored it in the shed for a time. My mother got it, and then she gave it to me. It was in an awfully old frame, which literally fell to pieces as it was handled. There was no glass or anything to protect the painting (which maybe isn't a valuable masterpiece, but which has a story and sentimentality, and I love it). So I reframed it this week and hung it above the bed. It is rather larger than it looks here, so almost serves as a headboard for the queen-size bed.

Here we have an old wooden vessel of some sort. I have no idea its original purpose, nor how old it might actually be. This is another piece that belonged to my grandmother and I don't remember a time it wasn't there. I used to play with this as a child. It was everything from a witch's cauldron to a butter churn to a chamber pot in my imagination. Often, I slapped a big, round, red polka-dot pillow on top and it was a giant mushroom for the fair folk. I believe it was also a Barbie hot tub at some point. My Aunt Debbie got this after Grandpa passed and wanted me to have it. I couldn't say no because I do have such memories of it, so it has come to live in my peaceful room filled with things I love.

Last, we have another art piece. This one I commissioned, telling the artist only that I wanted something inspired by the Iron & Wine E.P. Woman King. I cried when this is what I received. I was so moved by her capturing (and her rendering of the Woman King resembling myself) everything about the music that speaks to me so strongly. This piece is 36X72 and fills a wall for me. It is the first thing I see each morning and the last thing each night. I LOVE this painting!

In this room, I sit quietly. I read. I pray. I meditate. I paint. I draw. I write. I work. I listen to quiet music. I watch my chickens from the window. Sometimes I get a good night's sleep. I love this room.

The Humble Stragglers Dinner

It's 3:41am. I can't sleep. I hear the cicadas, crickets, and tree frogs, and the occasional barred owl or coyote outside. Summer sounds. The sounds of the oppressive heat. Longing for cooler weather and life outside of climate controlled confinement have me thinking of all the things I love in the Fall and Winter months. One of my favorites is the humble Stragglers Dinner. My grandmother used to refer to this sort of event as "scruffy hospitality."

Though I am an introvert, I enjoy being around good people. I enjoy observing and listening. Occasionally, I enjoy interacting when I feel I have something meaningful to contribute. As an empath, I can sometimes wear other people's energy like a cloak. It can be dark and heavy, or it can be light as gossamer. Selfishly, hosting a Stragglers Dinner gives me a chance to surround myself with people who are bright, humble, compassionate, mindful, happy, generous, open, and loving. It also brings me back to my childhood in rural Illinois. People visited. It was okay just to pop in somewhere, or for others to pop in at our house. It didn't matter if there was laundry being sorted and dishes in the sink, and when a mealtime came around, we'd scrounge something together to feed everyone. It could be buttered rice, sausage patties, and cornbread. It could be chili or soup, spaghetti, or whatever we could cobble together out of the pantry and fridge. It was never ever fancy. The adults would sit about and chat, or sometimes work in the garden or at some other project, helping each other out. The children would run free in the fields or small-town streets and alleys, only coming back when the moon was all the light left, or when the streetlights shone in town.

Longing for those simple feelings of friendship and community, wanting my children to have some of that experience, I began hosting what I call Stragglers Dinners. It's slightly more formal. I do invite people. I don't even know anyone who just drops by anymore. I cook up a big batch of soup or something, maybe make a salad or dessert. Everyone brings something to share, and I encourage them not to be fancy. We make a fire in our fire bowl in the backyard and put out the s'more makings and Skeetyjuice (my homemade mosquito repellent). Everyone is invited to bring their hula hoops, glow sticks, camp chairs, musical instruments, singing voices, and leave their worries at home. The children run free in the backyard. The adults gather in the living room, in the kitchen, or outside around the fire. Sometimes people will sing and play their instruments, sometimes not. Sometimes someone will be inside playing the piano, which mostly becomes background noise.

This is a social scene I cherish. It's good energy by design. I can sit quietly and mind the fire, enjoying the interactions around me. I can sing or hum along. I can strum a ukulele or clap out a beat. I don't worry people will judge my week's worth of laundry sorted and unwashed in the laundry room, or a freshly utilized litter box. They look over our bookcases, overlooking the dust, and we have a good conversation about literature. I marvel at how their babies are growing. We hate to call it a night, but slowly people straggle away to put their little ones to bed, or to snuggle up in a warm bed themselves. Me, I tidy up whatever is left to tidy, pray with my family, tuck my babes in bed, and cuddle into bed smelling of woodsmoke and a crisp evening outdoors. All is well.