Since I (Wendy) was very little, I dreamed of living in a big, beautiful Victorian home. Every trip to Hobby Lobby included a moment when I’d sneak away from my mom so I could ooooogle over the dollhouses, comparing each model to see which one I loved most. The intricate details, stained glass windows, and the many floors and rooms felt limitless to my little brain. I was determined to live in a real-life version one day.

My great-grandmother lived in a Victorian home—later converted into a duplex—in Tenaha, Texas. We visited her there most weekends when I was a child, and one of my greatest joys in life was exploring that house. I would meddle my way through her antiques and tiny treasures over and over again for years, and it never once got old. Looking back, her house wasn’t the most intricate Victorian design, but to me, it was a mansion I could only dream of living in one day. I think my love for old homes, detailed and timeless architecture, and interior design began right there in Shelby County. Maybe it was the feeling of family and home that lived in that house—or very possibly the fact that my single and very sassy great-grandmother worked hard to be the princess of that castle for many years.

I recently discovered that she independently purchased and furnished the home before leaving my grandfather. If you know anything about Tenaha, Texas, you know this was quite an accomplishment—she couldn’t have been earning much money at the time, and everyone knows everyone’s business in that little town. How she did all this in secret was quite the feat. But that’s just family lore, and there’s more where that came from when it comes to Ruby Erwin! I digress. All I know is this dream in my heart—and love for old homes—began over 40 years ago, and I love that it started with my little Granny Ruby and her beautiful Victorian “mansion,” as we used to call it.

In 2007, my great-grandmother’s home was purchased, moved to Carthage, Texas, and added on to. The couple who bought it did an incredible job respecting and preserving the history of her home, and I’ve loved seeing it treasured the way it always should have been.

I grew up in a very creative home, surrounded by parents and grandparents gifted in the arts from all sides—even if they didn’t fully realize it at the time. I was raised to believe I could literally make, create, or build anything my heart could dream up. My parents built their own log home from the ground up, and my mom is the queen of “I can make that myself.” My grandmother was an insanely gifted oil painter who inspired me from a young age to just create. “Make art to make art.” My favorite college professor is equally guilty of ingraining that philosophy in my head. I love them all dearly for that.

My young love of old homes, combined with being raised in a creative household, bred a deep passion for interior design and architecture. That flame was further fanned in college, where I majored in fine arts, spent many hours immersed in design and art history, and met that same beloved professor who still inspires me to make art today. I used to drive my friends around my small college town and show them old, run-down historic homes—big and small—and beg them to dream with me. They thought I was nuts (and in their defense, some of those homes were really rough). But to me, the idea of taking a forgotten structure and restoring it to what it was meant to be—someone’s pride and joy—made me giddy.

For a while, I regretted not majoring in interior design or architecture. But now, I believe that years spent in graphic design, focusing on intricate details, prepared me to see beyond the big picture and appreciate the elements that give something its true character. In graphic design, the curves of a beautiful font have helped me admire the details in carved limestone or thoughtfully placed gingerbread on a wraparound porch. Don’t even get me started on the eye candy that drips from European architecture—or the ornamental doors and gates I’ve had the privilege of seeing in South and Central America. All of those visual experiences shaped my eye for spacing, color, and balance in digital design, and in turn, sharpened how I see and appreciate architecture and interiors.

Charles Eames—one of my favorite artists, architects, and designers of all time—said, “The details are not the details. They make the design.” I couldn’t agree more.

But if I had to credit one place that truly propelled me full speed toward this dream, it would be Savannah, Georgia. After many visits over the past several years with our daughter while she took summer courses at Savannah College of Art and Design—and later prepared to move there at 18 to attend full time—my passion for renovating a historic home reached its tipping point.

If you’ve been to Savannah, you know it’s saturated with historic charm and beauty. If I could bottle the feeling I get walking through those downtown neighborhoods, with the sun peeking through the moss-covered trees on a warm day, I’d never lack joy. It may sound strange to some, but it’s truly my happy place. The history, the architecture, the art—it’s like living in a painting. It’s magical and inspires a life of charm.

However, Savannah is our daughter’s home now. And while we visit as often as possible and like to think of it as our second home, we live in Texas—where our family is, and where Cody’s job is. So, years of inspiration finally turned into a decision: to bring that dream of historic renovation, interior design, and Savannah’s charm right here to East Texas.

And then came the challenge:
Convincing Cody.