Fall does something to the way I see a room. It is not an urge to start over. It never has been. It's quieter than that more like an instinct to add something. To go looking for the one piece that feels like it has always belonged there, even though you found it yesterday. The homes I love most were never built in a single weekend, from a single catalog, in a single style. They're layered. Shaped over years by what was inherited, what was stumbled upon, and what was chosen
