Phase 2 of our kitchen makeover came and went with no solution for a kitchen island. I stalked Craigslist, milled around the local antique shops, and popped in and out of my usual haunt of thrift stores. I carried around a tape measure in my purse, for crying out loud. (Actually, I do that all the time. But still!) I drew sketches, pinned pins, checked out library books, flipped through all the design magazines at the grocery store. I paraded a variety of my own furniture in and out of the kitchen, testing each one to see if it would make the cut. I even followed a shop owner to her home (which was not “right around the corner”) to check out her stash in her barn.
All to no avail.
So where did I find the perfect kitchen island?
In my sister’s living room, who passes down the world’s “awesomest” hand-me-downs!
Don’t you just love it how the best of solutions are often found in the least suspected of places?
Breaking design rules, baby–the workhorse of my kitchen!
Sometimes I knowingly break the rules and sometimes I’m altogether unaware that a rule exists and I break them out of sheer ignorance. I’ll be the first to admit I’m ignorant of a great many design rules.
But this island, this baby breaks all kitchen-island-placement-and-sizing rules. And I know it and I don’t care.
It’s nice and tall and a comfortable fit for all our taller than average peeps.
Inside massive storage holds about a billion egg cartons, one professional grade meat grinder, a crock pot, large stock pot, and an extensive collection of plastic ware!
Nearly six feet of knotted and nailed wood plank awesomeness practically doubles the counter space I already have, giving me a nice big prep area for meals and a huge landing space for groceries.
But the coolest thing is this, we all gather around it and hang out. While cooking, making coffee, eating. It gets us into the center of the room, facing each other, working and laughing and talking together.
So I’m ok with the fact that its size makes things a little tight around the corners and you need to call the all clear in order to open the oven without knocking someone over and potentially spilling them directly into 450 degrees.
I love it that when company comes for dinner we gather around the tiniest space in the house while I’m finishing up my duties in the kitchen, me repeating “excuse me” and asking the onlookers to get down a bowl, put something back in the fridge, or throw something away.
And, while I can think of several projects I’d like to do during the last phase of our kitchen reno in a somewhat distant far away place, I’m thoroughly content to be right here, right now, doing just this.
Read more about the changes we’ve made to our farmhouse kitchen!
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