An aging mansion

In Mexico, we eventually settled in a home built at the end of the 19th century.   Carved quarry stone covered a sober façade pierced by tall windows with wrought iron grillwork; the heavy wood door was tall enough for a person to enter on horseback.   The adobe walls were half a meter thick, muffling the noise of downtown traffic, and ceilings were five meters high.   The rooms opened off a central patio where my little boys scooted in walkers around white columns and terracotta flower pots.


Talavera ceramic tiles covered the tiny kitchen;   it opened onto a utility patio with a cement laundry tub and scrub board.   Stairs there led to the service rooms where I set up looms and easels.   We grew organic tomatoes, lettuce and herbs in planters on the roof.

That gracious old mansion cried out for refined home décor – etched glass stemware, gleaming Mexican pewter and Victorian style rugs such as these hand-tied beauties by Ishtyaq.   Colonial paintings by Alberto Torres.   Crochet art by Simona More Silva.   Silver candelabra....   Alicia Lostaunau's bed valances would have been wonderful for my babies.

Alas, we were newlyweds, just getting started. It was a period of terrifying hyper-inflation.   We had far more romance than money.