Whitewashing My Fences

Each year at this time, as winter struggles to keep its strangle hold on my soul and the Spring sun is forced to filter herself through yet another snow squall, I sit with my design books, longing to reimagine my entire exterior life. Whether it is the need for lightness, or the weariness that comes from simply enduring so many months of cold, I find myself wishing I could take my house in two hands and snap it in the fresh air like a newly laundered sheet.

The books that offer the most comfort during this annual rite of passage are the ones that champion the use of white.

Making a White Garden by Joan Clifton....  

At Home With White by the editors of Victoria....  

Shabby Chic by Rachel Ashwell....

I hungrily thumb through the pages, peering down at the images and devouring the chipped, ivory, painterly environment. And with each page turn I want to grab a pail of whitewash and cover the walls, woodwoork, furniture and baubles, banishing the oppressive darkness under a fresh coat of ivory newness.

And yet, and yet....

I love the warmth of gleaming walnut and mahogany. I delight in the jewel tones of china carpets. I take pleasure in sinking deeply into claret corduroy sofas or resting against dense floral cushions. I am soothed by the hunter greens, deep mustards and rich aubergines of paisley shawls and throws. And I enjoy having the brash summer light filtered through the half-closed slats of dark wooden shutters.

Still.... 

Spring has arrived (officially, at least) and the hunger for white has overtaken me. Again. And so I slowly retire my tartan walking skirts and heavy dark-hued sweaters to the "winter closet", wondering if it is finally time to add more light and gleam to the house.

I shall begin with the walls and woodwork, and see where that takes me.... 

a modern-day Tom Sawyer, with her pails of Cottage White at the ready.