porch: sunroom turned playroom

Have you ever walked into a home with small children and immediately realized it showed no signs of existent kids? You know the homes I am talking about: the walk-on-your-tiptoes houses because glass centerpieces rumble and the china hutch shakes when all of your weight bears down on the floor…the don’t-bump-the-accent-table properties because an original candelabra from The Tudors reign in England rests there. I always wonder how kids who grow up in these homes play inside. Internally, I morph into Fraulein Maria, holding back my sudden urge to rip down the window treatments and make play clothes for the von Trapp children. [Burst into song....now]

But every so often, these houses – so elegantly decorated to perfection – offer a pleasant surprise; a special room just for children, a place where they can be children.

This property, located in the neighborhood of I’on, is one of these homes. It is meticulously and BEAUTIFULLY decorated. It is southern-authentic. And it is full of children. 4 little ones roam (not own) this home and to carve a space just for them, the owners turned the sun room to their playroom.

I l.o.v.e this space. I cannot put my finger on whether its the school supplies or the kid’s artwork filling the walls or the amazing organization skills of these parents. Perhaps its the bold contrast between the white room and its furniture, sprinkled with color color EVERYWHERE. I think this room inspires creativity, something kids are quickly forgetting how to harness. When I walked into this room, I felt like a happy child. And I wanted to draw on the chalkboard.

This sunroom turned playroom is clearly filled with love. And giggles. Unfortunately, the children that fill it don’t wear window curtain play clothes – but they are just as adorable.

And just outside the sun filled playroom, the outdoor space blends durable, kid-friendly amenities with an adult atmosphere for entertaining and dining al fresco.

And just for you Sound of Music lovers out there…

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porch love

My love for porches can be traced back to a project my dad began for my older brothers before my parents knew a little girl was on the way.

We didn’t actually have a porch at my childhood home. Instead, we had an extension of my dad’s endless creativity – a tree house built for the boys (and future baby girl) whom he so lovingly adored, and still does!

The 1486 Woodmont Blvd Treehouse was a sight to be marveled and reveled in by every child and every inner child that entered my family’s eclectic backyard. Spanning American Beech and Winged Elm trees, my afternoons were spent in imaginary Ghost Buster and Peter Pan lands – creations of my brothers of course – and I happily tagged along in these make-believe worlds with cousins, friends and parents alike.

Brothers during construction in the early 80's

During the summer, we visited my great aunt Ruth and uncle Henry Read in a quiet, wooded neighborhood of Atlanta. Always in tow for these visits were my cherished Georgia cousins who, looking back, made the memories that solidified my love for porches. It was on Aunt Ruth’s unique screened porch that we laughed during home-cooked southern meals, collected caterpillars in jars and took naps with Uncle Henry’s legendary porch dog, Lucille. It was there that I learned to play Go Fish and War, developed an addiction to fresh Georgia peaches and found a new love for living alfresco. I dreaded having to leave Atlanta in the summertime but in retrospect, what I hated parting with was the Read family porch. Because even as a child, it relaxed my energetic soul.

Family enjoy the porch in the late 70's, pre-children

Ruth and Henry Read - 2007

It wasn’t until we moved into the house my mom currently lives in that experienced life with a real porch and finally had an outdoor living space I could enjoy throughout the year. The Porch is multi-functional and is equipped to handle a variety of crowds – it has hosted holiday family dinners, been the late-night landing spot for friends after a night out, and has been the breeding ground for intellectual and not so intellectual conversations that never seem to end. It is home to a diverse collection of art collected and gifted from all over the world and has become a space all its own. The Porch lets you laugh. It lets you cry. It lets you reminisce and lets you unwind. In short, the space lets you be you and embodies the only thing a porch really needs – a personal touch and a lot of love.

It is no wonder that when I began my adult life in Charleston, I was not only ecstatic to find an array of porches, from the grand historic piazzas of downtown Charleston, to the quaint beach bungalows of Folly Beach and Sullivan’s Island. And after just a year of living in this one-of-a-kind town, I’ve come to understand that Charleston has the same effect on me as the porches in my life – both relax my soul.

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