Episode 4: Books, Flowers, and the Beauty of a Summer Dining Room

It was midsummer. The dining room was bathed in afternoon light that poured through the half-open door. A smooth breeze drifted through, brushing over the skin. Slightly moist, it carried the scent of the summer garden outside.

The garden door was solid fir wood with a large glass pane on the top. The glass was covered with a thin white linen curtain, tied with a bow in the middle. The walls were painted in the color of a biscuit. Warm. Brownish. Yet cool and soft. The room embraced you, as though a familiar warmth wrapped around your body.

In the center stood a dining table. An old, long wooden piece. Surrounded by eight antique wooden chairs. Over the table sat a wooden vase, tall and elegant, filled with fresh flowers in lavender, cream, and green. Next to it, a delicious-smelling bowl of apricots glowed softly in the sunlight. All the colors moved through the room like music notes, tying the whole room together.

The walls were dynamic. The lower halves were paneled in vertical wood, capped by a wooden chair rail. Above that, the walls were painted in a smooth matte biscuit finish. The long wall was decorated with four framed prints of pressed flowers in brown, yellow, and green, recalling a nature long gone but preserved. Towards the ceiling sat two L-shaped shelves wrapped around the walls. Colored in biscuit, they were brimming with old and new books. The shelves were supported by carved wooden corbels, classical in shape.

Beneath the shelves sat a small sliding pocket door. It was left slightly open. The pantry shelves inside were lined with jars of rice, spices, and sauces, providing everything needed for the aromas and flavors of remembered meals cooked in the kitchen next door.

The dining room was lived in and alive. It was a room for slowing down. For eating together. For laughter and listening. A place for memories you’d never trade for anything else.