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

There’s a quiet kind of magic that happens before the world wakes up.
The gentle steam of tea curling in the air. The hush of a home not yet bustling. The golden thread of light spilling through the curtains. In these early hours, we’re offered a rare invitation—not to do, but to be. And how we respond often depends on the space around us.
Too often, our mornings begin in reaction: cluttered counters, harsh lighting, a to-do list that greets us before we’ve taken our first breath. But when your home is designed with rhythm in mind, your mornings can become less about rushing—and more about returning to yourself.
The environments we wake up to matter. A bedroom that feels serene rather than overstimulating. A hallway that leads you gently, not jarringly, into the day. A kitchen that welcomes you instead of overwhelming you.
Lighting is one of the most powerful tools we have. Soft, layered sources—lamps on dimmers, warm-toned bulbs, natural light when possible—can transform a jarring wake-up into a gentle beginning. It’s not just aesthetic; it’s emotional. It tells your body and spirit: You’re safe to move slowly today.
When I work with clients who are craving more calm in their life, we often start here:
What does your morning feel like right now?
And what would you like it to feel like instead?
It’s not about adding more to your routine—it’s about creating a space that naturally invites peace.
There’s a difference between a routine and a ritual. One you do because you have to. The other, because you want to.
Design can help you cross that bridge.
Imagine a corner of your home where your journal always lives. A small round table set just so with your favorite mug, a linen napkin, and a candle you only light in the morning. These are the quiet cues your space gives you. Over time, they become a rhythm—one you look forward to. One that helps you center, not just survive, the day.
And the best part? It doesn’t have to be grand. Often, it’s the smallest changes—a textured throw on your favorite chair, a dedicated drawer for your morning ritual items, a scent that signals “start fresh”—that shift the way your day unfolds.
This is the art of slow living. And your home can make it feel effortless.
As women move into new seasons of life—children grown, careers evolved, priorities shifting—I often hear the same thing: “I want my home to reflect who I am now.”
That desire is where the transformation begins. Because creating a home that matches your new pace isn’t about slowing down for the sake of it. It’s about aligning your environment with the woman you’ve become. Your values. Your rhythm. Your rituals.
Whether it’s rethinking a morning space, redesigning your bedroom to support deeper rest, or simply choosing pieces that invite stillness, your home can be the greatest support in helping you live intentionally.
When we design with rhythm and ritual in mind, our mornings become something we savor, not something we rush through. If you’re curious what that could look like in your own home, this is where we begin—with a conversation, a cup of tea, and a vision for what your space could hold.

By Rachel Schemmerling|Timeless Living Designs There’s something magical about the early days of May — a feeling that everything is waking up after a long winter’s rest. As the trees stretch out their newly green branches and the breeze carries a sweet, earthy scent, our spirits naturally lift. This is the perfect time to mirror […]
