Primitive*decor

In the , the transformation continued. She swapped the modern chrome canisters for old Mason jars filled with dried herbs and cinnamon sticks. A checkered homespun runner softened the edge of the dining table, and a braided wool rug anchored the space, its muted reds and deep navy blues telling a story of comfort.

Eliza stood in the center of her new house, where the smell of fresh drywall still hung heavy in the air. Outside, the world moved at a frantic pace, but inside, she wanted time to stop. She didn’t want a showroom; she wanted a home that felt like it had been there for a hundred years. primitive*decor

She started with the , dragging in a heavy, distressed pine cupboard she’d found at an estate sale. Its mustard-yellow paint was chipped and worn thin at the corners, revealing the dark wood beneath like a well-loved secret. On top, she placed a row of faded stoneware crocks and a hand-dipped beeswax candle nestled in a rusted tin holder. In the , the transformation continued