Annie Barnett
Annie Barnett is an artist and child at heart who loves discovering beauty in ordinary places. When she's not making art, Annie can be found mothering three wildly fun little girls alongside her husband Ted; or perhaps writing; or experimenting with blueberries and goat cheese in the kitchen, preferably with friends gathered around. She writes sporadically at annieathome.com and shares her art at besmallstudios.com.
7 posts
Do You Hear What I Hear?

Do you hear what I hear? All the sounds of Christmas are in full swing here: songs that bring nostalgia, the raucous laughter of cousins and aunts and uncles crammed around the table, those golden few minutes of silence when the door slams closed, after the kids have found that missing glove or hat and boots and finally made it out the door to sled down the big hill. Do...

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Setting the Table

My mother-in-law knows how to set a table. She’s a connector, a people person, a well of bubbling, intentional hospitality. She’s also a planner. Days in advance I can tell that company is coming, or a special dinner is in the cards, because her table will start to come together. A special set of dishes will appear from a box in the attic. She’ll play with table cloths and runners,...

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Learning to Listen

I wonder if you’ve ever had someone listen to you. Really listen. Can you picture her face? Take a minute. Remember the way she raised her eyebrows, how her smile broke slow to say, “Keep going, I’m with you.” Can you hear the well timed questions she asked that invited the rest of the story to roll out like water spilling over the dam of your inhibition? The way he...

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Metaphors and Magnolias

I am an artist, not so much by trade or training, but mostly by way of how I see the world. I think in color and process through pictures. I know we’re not all wired this way. Thank the Lord for the list-makers and the thinkers and the logic-loving linear people of this world. But as for me, I long to live my life lingering always in certain metaphors: the...

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When Art Tells the Truth

I paint at the dining room table. We eat our meals in the kitchen, and the dining room table transforms into a makeshift studio for days at a time: tiny pyrex bowls of colored water and little glass jars filled with brushes, sketches on napkins, a new sheet of Arches cold-press paper being slowly transformed. If you’re walking in our neighborhood and happen to stop by in the midst of...

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I Like to Be With You

Today I’m remembering small moments. I remember being with her, us little enough to slide our little legs and Keds sneakers into the cavity under the basement stairs, our secret hiding place. Brown and mustard Tupperware spoons dipping into little Pyrex bowls of chocolate pudding. I remember being with him, a man of few words: a quiet ride in the car, counting telephone poles (thirty-seven... thirty-eight... thirty-nine...) contented; the Roscoe...

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How to Ice Gingerbread Cookies (And A Link-Up)

  Our gingerbread cookies wear bikinis. It’s probably better to say it forthright, at the start of things, rather than string you along. It started when we were little. Dozens and dozens of cookies were made in our kitchen in December. They made their way into old tins and new platters and eventually to cookie swaps and school functions, the office, the concerts at church and our seven closest neighbors’...

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