By Rachel Schemmerling|Timeless Living
As we step into this season of gratitude, I’ve been thinking a lot about the surprising ways thankfulness reshapes the landscape of my life. Not the big, dramatic gratitude—the kind we save for holidays or milestone moments—but the quiet, daily noticing that loosens my shoulders, softens my breath, and brings me back into myself.
I’ve learned that when I feel more grateful, I become more open.
More relaxed.
More aware of what’s unfolding rather than what’s missing.
My perspective shifts—opportunities reveal themselves—and life, somehow, feels a bit easier.
And it often starts with one simple shift:
I have to → I get to.
It sounds small, but that tiny turn changes everything.
A few years ago, on a morning when everything felt heavy, I remember standing in my kitchen staring at a long list of things I had to do. Client calls. Errands. House chores. A design project that felt bigger than my energy. A life that felt bigger than my bandwidth.
I caught myself whispering under my breath, “I have to get through this day.”
There was nothing dramatic about the moment—no sunlight streaking through the window or musical soundtrack—just a quiet pause. A nudge.
What if I changed one word?
I get to help a client shape a home that finally feels like hers.
I get to run errands because my life is full.
I get to fold laundry in a home that shelters me.
I get to design, create, serve, and show up.
It didn’t erase the responsibilities. It didn’t magically lighten the workload. But something in me softened. The day no longer felt like a mountain—it felt like a privilege.
That was the day I realized gratitude isn’t something that descends upon us.
It’s something we choose, moment by moment, word by word.
This lesson feels especially true for me as I move through a major transition in my own business.
After years of offering full-service design, I’m closing that chapter with so much appreciation. It has been beautiful, meaningful work—and it shaped me in countless ways. But I’m stepping into a season that aligns even more deeply with who I am becoming.
I am keeping my design consulting, the part of the work that feels most aligned and helfpul. And at the same time, I’m opening something new—something that has been tugging at my heart for years.
A founding circle of women.
A community designed for connection, healing, creativity, and clarity.
And a program—a course—that helps women transform their lives by transforming how they design their homes.
This is the work that lights me up.
This is where I feel the click of alignment in my chest.
This is where gratitude flows effortlessly.
Instead of I have to build something new, I find myself thinking,
I get to build something meaningful.
I get to create spaces for women to feel seen.
I get to design a program that helps women design their lives.
The shift is subtle, but the energy behind it is everything.
The more I work with women, the more I see it clearly:
Gratitude is a design principle.
It shifts how we decorate, how we choose, how we release, how we gather.
It shapes the atmosphere we cultivate.
It influences the way we treat ourselves and the homes we live in.
When we approach our spaces with I get to, everything changes:
• I get to create a home that supports my wellbeing.
• I get to choose what stays and what goes.
• I get to redefine what comfort looks like in this season of life.
• I get to make beauty a priority, not an afterthought.
Gratitude opens us.
And when we’re open, we can design a life—and home—aligned with who we truly are.
I invite you to notice one place where you can shift from have to to get to. One tiny corner of your life that might soften with gratitude.
And if you’re feeling called into deeper transformation…
If you sense a new season unfolding for you too…
If you’re craving community, creativity, and a fresh, empowering relationship with your home…
Then keep close by and wait.
More about the founding women’s circle and the new program is coming soon.
This season isn’t just about gratitude.
It’s about rebirth.
Redesign.
Realignment.
And the beautiful truth that when we shift our perspective, our whole life starts to bloom.

By Rachel Schemmerling|Timeless Living As the winter holidays draw near, our homes begin to shift. The light changes, the air cools, and suddenly our living spaces become more than rooms—they become places we return to for comfort, memory, and a sense of belonging. This week, I had the joy of stepping into that spirit early […]

By Rachel Schemmerling|Timeless Living
Growing up in our old historic home, I remember how the first crisp nights of fall seemed to bring everyone closer to the fire. We had four fireplaces, but my favorite was the one in the keeping room.
A keeping room, historically, was the heart of early American homes — a cozy space just off the kitchen where people gathered to stay warm, talk, and simply be together. Ours was painted a deep red, with an old threadbare sofa and a large bookcase overflowing with cookbooks, novels, and well-loved pieces of early American cookware.
There’s something deeply human about that fireside glow — the way it draws us in, settles our nervous systems, and reminds us of our ancient connection to the elements: fire, earth, air, and water. These aren’t just poetic ideas; they are the building blocks of how we feel safe, grounded, and alive.
In Denmark, they have a word for this — hygge (pronounced “hoo-gah”). It’s more than cozy socks and candles. Hygge is the art of contentment — a way of being that invites us to slow down, savor what’s simple, and create warmth in the middle of life’s storms.
As a child, I didn’t know the word hygge, but I felt it deeply. It was woven into the wool blankets draped over our laps, the scent of my mother’s oatmeal bread baking in the overn or the clam chowder simmering on the wood stove and the crackle of the wood fire that seemed to tell stories of its own.
My mother, Dale Carson, had a gift for making every season feel sacred. In her cookbook, Native New England Cooking, she shared recipes that embodied that same spirit of comfort — humble, hearty, and made with love.
But beyond the recipes themselves was something deeper — a reverence for the stories behind them. My mother’s lifelong study of the Indigenous people in New England and her Abenaki and French Canadian heritage wasn’t just academic; it was soulful. She approached food as a way to honor the rhythms of the earth and the wisdom of those who lived in harmony with it long before us.
Through her research and writing, she reawakened forgotten traditions — the gathering, the blending, simmering, and most importantly the gratitude for what each season offered. Our home became a living classroom where she taught us that nourishment was more than feeding the body; it was a way of remembering, a way of honoring each other and the earth.
When I think of her now, I can still see her at the stove — a wooden spoon in one hand, a story in the other — blending history, heritage, and heart into every meal. Her work wasn’t just about food. It was about connection: to land, lineage, and love. Mom was the kind of person who loved everyone and she would show you that through the food she created for you.
A few of my favorites for this time of year:
Message me if you’d like the recipes- I’d be happy to share them with you.
In the cooler seasons, the season of storms — both literal and political — these small rituals matter more than ever. Meaning while the snow is falling, life as you know it is changing and or the political climate is storming…taking care of your nervous system, your state of mind, as this is so important to your well being. Lighting a candle, stirring a pot of soup, baking bread, wrapping yourself in something soft… they’re not luxuries. They’re acts of resilience.
As we head into the months ahead, I invite you to find your own version of hygge. Create warmth. Gather light. Let your home be your sanctuary — a place where you can reconnect to what’s timeless, true, and nourishing for your soul.

By Rachel Schemmerling | Timeless Living Designs It seems that at this time of year there is a subtle slowing, an invitation to turn inward — when the air cools, the light changes, and our homes start to say it’s “time to gather”. Before the rush of guests, menus, and twinkle lights, I always find […]

By Rachel Schemmering| Timeless Living Designs
These days, even turning on the news can send our nervous systems into overdrive. Add to that the constant hum of rising prices, tariff talk, layoffs, and the mental load of never ending list of daily tasks—laundry, dishes, walking the dog, making dinner—and it’s no wonder we’re all carrying an invisible weight of stress. The world feels loud and fast. But your home doesn’t have to.
Your home can become your sanctuary—a place that quiets your mind, steadies your breath, and restores your energy. Design, when done intentionally, can be one of the most powerful tools to soothe an overstimulated nervous system and support true well-being.
Here are a few wellness-centered design tips to help calm the chaos and create peace in your home:
Clutter is noise for the brain. Even beautiful things can become stressful if there are too many competing for attention. Try this: walk into each room and notice where your eye goes first. Is it drawn to a pile of mail, a corner of stacked laundry, or an overcrowded shelf? Choose one small area each day to simplify. Less truly helps your body rest.
Our circadian rhythm depends on light. Harsh overhead lighting at night keeps your nervous system alert, while soft, layered lighting (lamps, candles, dimmers) signals the body to wind down. Open blinds in the morning, let natural light flood in, and at night, create a warm glow that tells your body it’s safe to rest.
Our sense of touch is deeply connected to our nervous system. Incorporate natural fibers—linen, cotton, wool, and rattan—to add a sense of softness and grounding. A cozy throw, a textured rug, or a handwoven basket can create subtle cues of safety and comfort.
A gentle aroma can do wonders for your mood. Essential oils like lavender, bergamot, or cedarwood are known to lower stress hormones. Try diffusing them in the evening or using a linen spray before bed to signal relaxation.
Plants, natural materials, and even a simple bowl of stones can reconnect us to the grounding energy of the earth. Studies show that just seeing greenery lowers blood pressure and slows the heart rate. If tending plants isn’t your thing, even a few sprigs of eucalyptus or fresh herbs in a jar can make a difference.
This doesn’t need to be a meditation room—it can be a corner chair by a window, a cozy nook with your favorite blanket, or a tea tray on your nightstand. A space where you intentionally slow down, breathe, and let the world wait a few minutes.
The truth is, our family isn’t immune to stress either. There are days when the headlines feel heavy, the to-do list feels endless, and even the hum of the dishwasher feels like too much. But that’s exactly why I’ve made it my mission to turn home into a healing place—a living, breathing reflection of peace.
You deserve that, too.
Your home can hold you when the world feels too much.
Start small. One corner. One candle. One quiet moment.
That’s how we begin to shift from surviving to truly living. I like to call it timeless living.

By Rachel Schemmerling|Timeless Living Designs Autumn arrives quietly. The light shifts, evenings cool, and suddenly we’re craving warmth and coziness. (I have a thing for scarves and fuzzy socks, you too?) But, instead of giving yourself another list of to-do’s—bins to unpack, garlands to hang, pumpkins to buy—this season can be embraced as a pause. […]

By Rachel Schemmerling|Timeless Living Designs
There are seasons of life when the walls of our home seem to echo louder than usual. The silence after the children have moved on. The empty chair where a loved one once sat. The quiet after a relationship has ended. These moments can feel like grief all over again—because they are.
We mourn not only the people, but the life that once was—the laughter that spilled into the kitchen, the familiar sound of footsteps, the rhythm of a shared routine. And in that mourning, home can sometimes feel like a museum of memories: heavy, still, overwhelming.
But your home can also become your ally. It can hold you, comfort you, and whisper new hope into your days. With intention, you can transform it into a sanctuary—a place that honors your past while gently guiding you into what’s next.
Healing doesn’t mean erasing. It means creating balance. You can:
When the heart is tender, ritual brings grounding. Try:
These aren’t small acts. They are love letters to your own soul.
Think of your home not as what it has lost, but as what it can now give you: refuge, restoration, renewal. Each room can become a reminder that you are not alone—because you carry love, memory, and new beginnings inside you.
Your sanctuary doesn’t need to be perfect; it simply needs to feel safe, supportive, and sacred to you. Let your home tell the story of who you are now—resilient, tender, open to what comes next.
You are not just surviving this season—you are creating a life where your heart has room to heal. And your home can be the sanctuary that helps you get there.

There’s a quiet truth I’ve come to believe: the way we care for our homes often mirrors the way we care for ourselves.
Not in a rushed, perfectionist sense—but in the way a freshly made bed invites us to pause, or how a sunlit kitchen can become the heart of a new season in life. Design, when done intentionally, becomes more than a beautiful backdrop. It becomes a form of self-respect. A gentle declaration: I am worthy of peace, beauty, and ease.
For many of the women I work with, especially those entering a new chapter—post-children, post-career, post-hustle—there’s often a moment of reckoning. What does it look like to create a home that nurtures me?
That’s where we begin.
Designing with restoration in mind means we look at more than colors and textures. We consider:
These aren’t luxuries. They’re investments in your well-being. And they quietly shift the way you move through your life.
The spaces we inhabit influence how we feel, think, and even relate to others. A serene bedroom can soften your evenings. A welcoming sitting room can open the door to connection and conversation. A curated office nook can spark clarity and intention.
When your home reflects who you’re becoming—not just who you’ve been—it has the power to steady and inspire you.
Intentional design isn’t about rushing toward a finished “after.” It’s about slowing down enough to ask:
These questions are where the transformation begins.
If you’ve been feeling the pull to create a home that heals—one that supports your energy, reflects your values, and honors this season of life—I would be honored to walk that path with you.
Let’s begin with a conversation.
Book a Design Discovery Call
