Slowly our house is becoming a home.
We hung some artwork yesterday.
The pastel of my uncle, Zenas Howland Taylor, was done when he was a young accountant in San Francisco in 1930.
It's hard for me to believe that the picture of him is more than 90 years old.
It's been in our family for many decades and I've always loved it.
He's now keeping my new blog header of Blackwell company.
Meanwhile the kitchen got several pieces hung yesterday.
And a couple of our larger pieces have finally found their places in the living room.
I say "finally" because at first they were reversed and, dang, those framed pieces are heavy.
Meantime, some other works are on and against the couch for now while they find their proper places.
It is said that a house is not a home.
We feel a house is not a home until the artwork finds it's proper place.
And Judy has always said it's not right until the books have come out of their boxes and been placed on their shelves.
It's feeling more and more like home.
