On a recent last minute road trip with my neighbor to visit her sister, I did not expect to be treated to anything beyond the luxury of sleeping in twenty minutes longer and an uninterrupted glass of wine. I simply thought the time away from my job and being mom 24/7 might be a good thing for my mood so off we went. But upon arrival at Blake and Jack Collier's home in Houston, I soon discovered that this house where I'd be residing for the next 24 hours, was as good as a visit to Art Basil. Who would have thought that an unassuming, modest-by-River-Oaks-standards house would sweep me away, but it did just that. As I began to explore rooms, I became completely enchanted with the space, brimming with classic style and yet completely fresh. As a designer I could see exactly why it worked but on another level, I couldn't begin to imagine how she did it. Clearly without over-thinking. Ms.Collier's natural and evocative style is carefully pulled together from pieces found over many years; maps of precious island homes, Kartel lamps, antique gilded mirrors and chairs from Pottery Barn - a true mix of high/low. Fine screen mesh took the place of glass in her tailored custom kitchen cabinet doors. Her powder room was papered with pages of fine lined illustrations torn from an old book. And just when you think you've seen it all -- a floor painted the most sublime shades of gray, cream and yellow. Upon seeing it, I began a renewed obsession with the color yellow. As captivated as I get seeing how others create spaces, I am continually reminded of how inspiration can also come from the smallest and most unlikely places. Not long after I returned from the Collier's home in Houston, I wandered into the washroom at my favorite nursery here in Austin, Big Red Sun. There in the corner sat a large wire cage filled with finches. I watched them for several minutes fluttering in perfection. The intensity of color in their feathers, the shape of their wings and their curvy smart beaks conjured a whole room in these shades of white and gray with streaks of bright orange-red furnishings and large graphic black and white oil paintings. I can't explain why these birds or the Collier's home awaken something in me, but they do. And in a time when we all struggle in some way to spend our days doing what we love while still paying attention to the mortgage, I thank the Universe for putting these small inspirations in front of me.

Love comes to us at an early age. For me, it was the fifth grade when my best friend, Sara, and I walked up her street the first time. As we approached her small ranch-styled house, I noticed that her house sat right next door to a large gray house in the shape of a box. Without knowing why, I had been riding my bicycle past this 'box' house several times a week all summer. This was 1974 and I assure you, there were not many 'modern' homes built in the historic neighborhood of South Hampton in Houston. In those days, the lovely old houses sitting on lush, tree-lined streets were not torn down to build an architectual style that suited the homeowner. Instead, you took your perfectly fine house and 'decorated' it to suit your tastes. So when I discovered this house without any visible doors or windows, just large house numbers pasted to the siding, a house that dared to stand apart from all the other houses, I was intrigued. I imagined that the family living there must be quite free, hippies in fact and although I never met the owners, I did learn in time that a girl my age lived in the house. It took me several weeks to talk Sara into going over to meet her but when she finally agreed, I practically sprinted across the yard to the house. After what seemed forever, a woman in a maids uniform finally came to the door. Somehow we were able to talk our way inside and while Sara and the girl sat eating cookies in the kitchen, I made my quick getaway to study the house. Wandering unnoticed up the stairs, I still remember the feeling of my hand sliding along the floating wood banister and wondering why some child had not fallen through and tumbled to the cement floors below. Light flooded in through the back of the house where all the windows were hiding and it made me inexplicably happy at the sight of no curtains, just big panes of glass looking out to their simple backyard. Inside the house everything was white - white walls, white floors, white furniture. As I went on exploring, I discovered door knobs that were not round and large walls of gray swooshy stone in the bathrooms, a shower without walls. Peeking into the pristine bedrooms, my own house came to mind - the rose colored floral sheets on sale at Sears that my mother and I stretched and hung over our dining room walls, the ceaseless beige carpet and the old brown sofa draped with a cotton bedspread to cover big tears in the upholstery. I could see all the clutter -- books everywhere, my brothers rabbit cage on the dining room table, dishes in the sink and dolls strewn about my room. The thought of it made me queasy in the clean white space. My heart ached to live in this house. I knew deep down, like one does with a true first love, that I belonged somewhere. At eleven, I could not comprehend the design principles of this house or understand why all the furniture felt 'cool' to me, I just knew that it was, and that someday, I would live in house like this one. Thankfully for now, the house still stands in dated glory. Driving by, I pause to make the same vow.

As Fall in Austin turns to winter, I find myself, much like the squirrels I watch digging holes all over my yard each morning....gathering. My pilgrimage to Kates Papery in New York as well as trips to any art, paper or gift store I can find here in Austin, have yielded a great surplus of paper designs, colors and textures. I am ready now for the first cold day. I scatter the floor with paper, glue, pencils and an Exacto knife. I tear, paste, scribble and throw it all away. No dinners are cooked and the laundry stacks up. Several trips are made to Ikea for Ribba frames. (I can not explain why these humble wood frames make me so happy, but they do.) Now I am ready to frame. The first ones are too monochromatic and honestly not so good. The glue wasn't right and I cut when I should have torn. Into the trash. The second goes much better. It will find it's way to my sister as a belated wedding gift, the third one to my niece for her 13th birthday, one for my mother at Christmas, three for a client who loved the kitchen I designed for him so much he took up cooking, and five more for my own bare walls. The satisfaction we all feel when we find our 'project', our time, our sense of ourselves can not be denied. I urge you this winter: find yours. Whether it's cooking or woodworking, painting or cleaning out your closets, find what makes you happy and settle in for the cold quiet days to come.

This was a great summer for me. In addition to taking a much needed vacation with my family to the beautiful beaches of Eastern Long Island, I took time to dream about new projects and work to begin this Fall. In my constant quest to find affordable yet stylish home furnishings for my clients, I've decided to add another dimension to the work at Anabel Interiors --- simple DIY projects in the section aptly called, Nest Easy. Be sure to check out the first project - dining room chairs that cost less than $100 a chair. Inspired by a green paint chip sitting on my desk and the desperate plea from a client on a budget to add style and excitement to her otherwise boring dining area, I tackled the first of many more home projects to come. Complete with photo's and step by step instructions, do what inspires you. In the end you will create a space that exudes personality and artistry that is uniquely you! So plan to be busy, some of the projects to come -- paper collage art, simple container gardening ideas, lighting, pillows and much more! Good thing I had the summer to day dream away...