I’m house and cat sitting for a woman who owns the cutest bungalow surrounded by a simple, yet chaotic garden on three sides of the house. Being here, if only for a few days, reminds me of how it’s the simple, little things that can make a house a home. But how did women in days gone by, create such beauty?
One of the things I love most about writing westerns is remembering that the Old West wasn’t all dust, danger, cattle drives, and gunfights. Oh, those things certainly make wonderful story fodder. Give me a stubborn cowboy, a runaway wagon, a mysterious stranger, or a heroine with more courage than sense, and I’m a happy writer. But what really brings a western town or homestead to life for me are the little touches of beauty people carried with them.
A scrap of lace, teacups wrapped carefully in cloth and packed across the country.
A packet of flower seeds tucked into a trunk. A quilt made from dresses that had seen better days. Maybe a blue ribbon saved for Sunday.
Those are the details that make my imagination wake up. I often think about the women who traveled west and what they
chose to bring when space was limited and every item had to matter. A cast-iron skillet was practical. A good needle was necessary, and a sturdy pair of shoes could make all the difference.
But then there were the things that weren’t strictly necessary and still mattered very much. Many a woman kept a pressed flower between the pages of a Bible. For some it was a pretty shawl or a bit of rose-scented soap. Many carried small pictures from home, while others packed packets of hollyhock, marigold, or sweet pea seeds.
Those little things remind me that people have always needed beauty. Not grand beauty, necessarily. Not chandeliers and ballrooms and velvet curtains. Just something lovely enough to soften a hard day.
Imagine a woman standing in the doorway of a sod house or a rough cabin. The wind is blowing dust across the yard. Supper still needs cooking. The children are muddy. Her husband is late getting back. There is work everywhere she looks.
But beside the door, a few stubborn flowers are blooming. That matters.
Maybe they came from seeds her mother gave her or she traded for them with a neighbor. Maybe she carried them across miles of prairie because she couldn’t bear to leave every pretty thing behind. That little patch of flowers says, “This is home now.”
I think that’s why I love writing heroines who create beauty wherever they land. Maybe they bake, sew, plant flowers, tend chickens, teach children, doctor neighbors, run boardinghouses, or make a lonely room feel welcoming. They’re not just surviving. They’re building something.
I western romance, that’s often what love is really about, too. Not just the grand declaration or the kiss. And let’s not forget the moment when the hero finally realizes he’s been a complete fool and had better do something about it before the heroine walks away. Though I do love that part.
Love is also in the small things. The cup of coffee waiting on the stove, the extra blanket. What about wildflowers left on a 
windowsill? Or when the man who notices she’s tired. The woman who sees past his gruffness and realizes he’s lonely?
It’s these little things that make a house into a home. And sometimes, those little beauties are what make a story feel real. So today I’m thinking about the small comforts people carried into hard places. The things that didn’t look important on a packing list, but meant everything once the journey was over. A flower garden, a pretty dish, a quilt, songs, memories and hope.
Those are the things that remind us our foremothers weren’t only tough, though they certainly were that. They were also dreamers. Women who could face a hard world and still say, “I’m going to plant something beautiful here.” And honestly, I can’t think of anything more heroic than that.
What about you? What little touch makes a house feel like home to you? Is it flowers, books, quilts, family photographs, a certain scent from the kitchen, or something else entirely?
Quilts. Mine were made by family members. Receiving them was love.
I love quilts, Denise! My sister had made them but I’ve never tried my hand at it. For one, I can’t sew a whit! But I know quite a few quilters, and yes, to receive one was love!
Books, of course, are necessary to make a house feel like a home. My sewing machine would be second (much though I enjoy creating a new skirt or prayer blanket, it mostly helps me with mending and alterations [my daughter and I are both short]).
I know a lot of folks with antique sewing machines in their homes, Mary. Including the house I’m in now. And books! Yes to books! I don’t think I’ve ever been in a house without books. This one has an entire wall of floor to ceiling books in the dining room.
Books, always, and not tidy bookcases, but ones like mine where the books are stacked haphazardly on the shelves. Books on the table in front of the sofa and books piled on the nightstands. Great post, thanks!
Nan, I’ve always wanted some big rambling victorian house I could fill with books! But now I’m thinking more of a house like the one I’m staying in. Cute, cozy, cottage, full of books!
flowers are part of who I am – I love to save marigold seeds and then be surprised on which color blooms!
I also love hanging baskets of orange or red geraniums!
Flowers! Yes, most definitely, Teresa. I’d love to have a flower garden one of these days. And I love marigolds!
When I have umpteen dahlia bouquets in my house in late July, August, and September, I feel like a queen bee! It makes me so happy. And, do I ever like throws! I have gifted my grandkids so many throws over the years that they like them too.
Sure enjoyed your blog today. Thank you.
There’s nothing like fresh flower bouquets, Kathy! I love a house filled with flowers!
Ilike an area for sitting and talking, the kitchen comes to mind.
Ah yes, kitchens, Debra, the heart of the home. And definitely an area for sitting and talking. Thus “the sitting room” of days gone by. I think we were all born in the wrong time period!
I have several “knickknacks” from ancestors who came to America in the 1700’s that have been handed down for generations and are now in my safekeeping. I like imagining the journeys over the centuries these “priceless” pieces took and stories they could tell.
Oh wow, yes! Heirlooms really make you think and wonder about all the things they could tell you if they could talk!
Hey Kit!
I have dollies that my mother and Grandma Tom crocheted around. I have the wedding dress my Aunt Grace made my mother, her younger sister. Aunt Grace was the oldest sibling. And then my mother’s younger sister, Gwen, redone the bottom of this same wedding dress so I could wear when I married close to 46 years ago. Anyway, it is on a dress form(headless manikin) in my bedroom. I love all things Victorian. I would love to post those pictures here, but this site won’t let me.
Love your books Kit! Many blessings!
That wedding dress( the bodice part) will be 70 years old October 28th. For me, that’s pretty cool. Yes, and sentimental!
Flowers make it feel like home.
I think for me, it’s flowers. My grandmother had the 2 toned purple irises. When I see them I always think of her.
Things that show the personality of those who live in the house make it a home to me. In my living room, I have a painting of my old horse who passed away, a cross-stitch piece that I made, and my daughters’ artwork on display.