Amy’s Love Notes | The difference between house and home

Sharing a few quiet corners of my house and the ordinary moments worth slowing down for.

Where is your favourite spot to sit and do nothing for ten minutes?

My favourite place to sit and do absolutely nothing is probably the bay window tucked around the side of the dining room.

It’s one of those spots you’d completely miss if you didn’t know it was there.

Hidden away slightly.

And I love that about it.

In the mornings, I’ll sit there quietly with a coffee while the light comes in and the whole house still feels half asleep.

Before the noise. Before everyone needs something. Before the day properly starts.

There’s something very calming about having one little corner that feels like your very own sanctuary.

A small joy in the house that I don’t think anyone else would notice is the landing halfway up the stairs.

We’ve got this whole wall of family pictures leading up to the top floor, and right in the middle, there’s a huge floor-to-ceiling window.

At sunset, the orange and red light pours through onto all the photographs, and suddenly, everything feels incredibly nostalgic.

Even moments that felt chaotic at the time somehow look soft when they’re frozen in a frame.

And every now and then, I’ll walk past it and stop for a second because it catches me off guard a bit.

It reminds me how quickly life moves.

But also how beautiful it is while it’s happening.

I think people massively underestimate how much atmosphere affects a home.

Not in an interior designer, everything-needs-to-match kind of way.

More in a nervous-system way.

Chris Stapleton’s Starting Over is almost always playing somewhere in the house. That album feels exactly how I want home to feel - warm, grounding, like everyone should slow down a bit and take a breath!

And I LOVE scent. Anything garden-inspired that mirrors what’s happening outside the windows.

Rose, jasmine, peony, orange blossom… anything soft and slightly wild.

I want the house to smell alive.

I also have this thing where I’ll open the windows constantly, even when it’s freezing outside, because fresh air instantly changes the feeling of a room for me.

And lamps. Lamps over overhead lighting always.

Overhead lights feel like an interrogation.

The atmosphere I always want the house to have is warm, welcoming, laid-back… like somewhere you can properly exhale.

There’s greenery everywhere. Out the windows, in corners, trailing off shelves. Plants make a house feel alive to me. They soften everything. They connect you to nature even when you’re inside.

And I think a room instantly feels off when it looks too perfect.

If the sofa doesn’t look comfy, I don’t trust the house.

It’s not a showroom. It’s a living space. That’s why they call it a living room.

You should feel like the sofa’s giving you a hug when you sit down… right!?

If I had to pick three things that make the house feel like home, it would probably be flowers, my husband and children, and our bed.

Because honestly, they are my home anywhere in the world.

And when I found out I was pregnant with my youngest, we immediately upgraded to the biggest bed we could physically find.

A large emperor.

Which, by the way, is deeply inconvenient when it comes to finding sheets.

But on Sunday mornings, I can fit everyone in there with a cup of tea, one of the boys’ books, and all the cuddles and chaos wrapped into one place.

And that, to me, is home.

One tiny moment this week that made me stop for a second was late afternoon in the kitchen.

Windows open, dinner cooking, Chris Stapleton playing somewhere in the background, my son drawing at the table while the little one was running in and out of the garden covered in mud.

Nothing particularly exciting is happening.

But I remember standing there thinking… this feels really good.

And I think those are the moments I’m trying hardest not to miss lately.

Not the huge milestones.

Just ordinary life, happening in real time.

Love, always,
Amy x