As of Monday, John and I have been married seven years. Clara likes to joke about it—“what’s seven?… a hand and two fingers!”—and her dramatic laugh always makes the milestone feel even more joyful.
Marrying on 7/7/07 made this anniversary feel extra special, a kind of celebratory number we’ve been waiting to mark in a memorable way. For our fifth anniversary we traveled to Hawaii, and we’d always imagined doing something equally adventurous for year seven. Australia remains the ultimate dream—maybe for our tenth—but for seven we thought about the Caribbean. As summer approached, though, the reality of traveling with two little kids set in. The idea of dragging car seats, pack & plays and stroller gear through airports wasn’t appealing. We decided to be practical and save a portion of our travel budget for next year when we might feel more settled and confident about a longer trip. With the remainder we did something different: we bought a painting.
The painting was a significant splurge for us at $850, but it felt like the right choice. Instead of a rushed vacation with two toddlers in tow, we bought a piece of art that captures a beach scene we both love. It’s an enduring reminder of a peaceful place, the kind of gift that doesn’t need luggage and which might even hang in Clara’s home someday. The painting is 30 x 30 inches and by artist Teil Duncan, whose work we’ve admired for a long time. We could have chosen a smaller, less expensive print, but we resisted that instinct and decided to go for a large original for this particular anniversary. When the painting arrived it was even more striking in person than in the photos; we had it on the wall in about five minutes. Photos don’t do it justice—standing in front of it is its own kind of quiet, unscripted vacation.
It looks great next to our blue front door, and it’s one of those images you can stare at for a long time and still find new details. The wall behind it is painted our favorite neutral: Edgecomb Gray by Benjamin Moore, a color we return to again and again in the house.
Every time I walk past the painting I notice something new. Clara already has favorites—“I like that pink chair! We need a pink beach chair!”—and Teddy’s eyes follow it when I carry him up the stairs. Burger hasn’t shown interest yet, but there’s still time for him to take it in.
Hanging the new piece made us realize our foyer already had a small assortment of art. Two smaller paintings by our friend Lesli hang nearby; they carry similar soft blues and bright whites, creating a cohesive look without feeling too matchy. Those smaller works depict things we love: the beach, John’s Granny’s house, and even Burgdorf Goodman himself. Nearby we relocated a Samantha French print into our office, which opened space in the hall where the anniversary painting now lives. We had tried the new painting over the desk first, but it felt right in the hallway instead.
In the office we also have a few more small paintings on the shelves—scenes from our last house, a pear I found at an estate sale for a few dollars, and a pair of bee illustrations from Etsy. Over time we’ve slowly built a mixed collection of inexpensive finds and the occasional splurge. It’s satisfying to see how a house gradually becomes a home through small, meaningful additions like these.
And, of course, we display all of Clara’s artwork on the cork board above her desk. Those pieces are priceless to us.
There’s a strange hesitation many of us have about making nail holes in freshly painted walls. Even knowing that spackling and repainting are easy, we tend to wait. It took us ten months to add some nail holes after painting our bedroom, which is a lesson in how cautious we can be. Yet adding art makes such a dramatic difference—our bedroom suddenly felt fully ours once the walls had pieces on them, and I’m inspired now to hang more in the upstairs hallway and elsewhere. The house already feels more personal and lived-in with this new painting in place.
To anyone else celebrating a 7/7 anniversary: I hope yours was a wonderful one.