In my rather grand and noble attempt to keep farm boots and food table in separate spaces (such a lofty goal!), I declared 'the barn' (which you enter before coming into the kitchen) as the place for jackets, hats, boots and all the incoming and outgoing wear that a family of six requires. Our baskets have worked so well, and there was a place for those, and a place for everything...in the barn.
All was well and good with The Barn as The Plan....until winter hit. And then, at one point, I found myself staring in the face of a shivering toddler, telling him that he needed to take his boots and jacket off in The Barn (where it was as cold as outside) and then come inside. I realized just how ridiculous I sounded as I heard the words coming out of my mouth. And? I didn't want to do it myself, either.
Soon, though, this little corner of our kitchen began to look something like this:
Decidedly not working.
So I came up with a perfect plan! It involves a little bit of concrete, some stone work, a couple of new windows, some reclaimed wood, and cutting a hole in the wall of my kitchen to create the most perfect of mudrooms. And which while we're at it, let's make it just a little bit bigger and turn half of it into a greenhouse. Doesn't that sound wonderful? I thought so, and I daydreamed about that for a little while. I filled the ears of my husband with my plans (I believe I may have said "it only took the Nearings twelve years to build their stone fence and they were so much older than we are right now!"), and I wrote it into the ever-changing list of plans and goals for this here farmhouse of ours.
And then (after I was kindly laughed at), I moved on...
...and headed to the barn for Plan B. This is what I returned with. Beautiful, yes? Ahem. Perhaps not so much. Perhaps it was in the 'trash' pile. But necessity is the mother of invention they say, and well, it fit the budget (being "zero").
There's nothing though, that a little bit of paint and some nails can't fix (except plumbing, but we'll save that story for next week). Especially when you have the help of a two year old (who is best left out of the plumbing deal too, by the way).
Since we bought the house, I'd been finding these simple utilitarian little hooks throughout the house - in closets, on walls, in nooks and crannies everywhere. As simple and unassuming as they are, knowing they'd been in the house for so long, I felt a little pang removing each one where we no longer needed them. So I was delighted to recall a bowl full of them in the workshop just for this project - happy to bring them back inside.
And there we have it. Everyone keeps one pair of boots, one jacket, one hat and one pair of mittens in this here little spot (the rest remains in the barn), and it totally works. It's a spot to sit and change into slippers (if so desired or strongly requested by Mama), a place to wipe one's feet, and a way to enter our house.
{Since I'm thinking you'll ask - the print is by Nikki McClure, as is the mushroom tote bag. What can I say? I like her work. I didn't paint this room, but hope to soon with a softer yellow than this one - Yolo's Grain 01 to be precise. As you can see from the first photo to the last, I'm working on painting the trim here - one nap at a time. That's how it goes.}
As simple as this little problem and solution were, I find the process interesting to think about. There's the lofty mudroom/greenhouse dreamed up and planned out - which may or may not ever actually happen. There are the two dozen "entryway" photos in my 'house inspiration' desktop folder that were drooled over, and a dozen more websites with something or other that I wanted to buy to make it happen.
But in the end, there's working with what we have and coming up with something that fulfills a family need. As simple as that. Whether it be made with yarn or fabric or a nearly rotten wooden bench found in a two-hundred year old barn... I think there's a great joy to be found in a process such as this. And Keeping it Simple? Oh, it applies everywhere in our lives...in all the little corners.
