Have decided I really love white kitchens, although more generally I guess I could say I just love white. I love the cleanness of it, the pops of colors, how it all feels rather antique. Gosh, I can’t wait to have a house. Does one ever really have a house that feels a part of them? I wonder. I bet some people do. Sometimes I worry about this love of *things* but then, it isn’t really all about the things, is it? it’s about feeling at peace, or joy, when you walk in the door. Even if no one is there, you’re just glad to be home.

Another white kitchen, a bit older looking than the first. Still lots of color, and personality. And I put the last picture in because I really like the idea of having a couch in the kitchen. My grandparents used to have a couch in their old kitchen (and actually, how the lakehouse is set up now, the kitchen and the living area are the same room, so I guess this still applies), which was just really awesome because you could sit and relax while someone cooked dinner and chat away and have fun. If I wasn’t playing with my cousins downstairs, I liked to sit on the couch and look out at the backyard (the couch faced the window, its back to the kitchen like the one in the photo), smelling the rich aromas of meat and potato family meals. Anyway, I want to try and incorporate this into a home.

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