My confidence, when it comes to decorating, or being crafty, or, heaven forbid, choosing paint colour, is pretty much non-existent. I’m not one of those women who just sees things, or knows the colours that work, or loves looking through home decorating magazines. I like to make friends with these women though. Because I need the help.

But it’s something I’m working on. I think this is something I can get better at. I think I can improve my making-things-beautiful skills. With practice.

As I read around the web, I am struck by the number of blogs dedicated to this. To making things beautiful. And I’m amazed at the different ways women promote this. There are some truly talented and creative women in the world.

For me, things work best when there is a story attached. I like to know why that picture is hanging on the wall, not just that the colours matched the sofa. I want to feel something when I look around a room. So, one of the ideas that has been tumbling around in my thoughts for a while is the idea of framing life. The idea of looking at things as if there is a frame around them, or actually putting a frame around something I love.

I’m going to start with some photographs. How hard is that? I’ll look through and print off some photos that mean something to me, put them in some frames, and hang them on a wall. Easy peasy. And then I’ll take a picture of my pictures, and I’ll post it here. There, I’m committed!

I was actually thinking about all of this last night. I was in the living room with the kids, reading and thinking, when Carter jumped up and ran to the window. We have old windows, the kind that are divided into small squares of glass. Mom, come and look, he called. And when I did, I saw moths, pressed up against the glass. Ten or more of them, all different sizes and colours, framed in the window. I thought of going for my camera, but instead we just stood and looked at them. It was living art.

Beauty, framed.