That 90's Ranch

Tag: diy

  • The Wreath I Didn’t Want to Let Go Of

    Every fall I make a handful of wreaths that I’m proud of. And then, every once in a while, I make one I fall in love with — the kind where I keep finding excuses to walk back out to the workshop just to look at it one more time. This year, that wreath is this one.

    I knew I wanted something soft this year — not the punchy orange-and-red fall you see everywhere, but something a little more heirloom, a little more “grandmother’s garden in October.” So I started with a base of blush, cream, and antique-gold maple leaves, the kind that look like they’ve been fading gently on the vine for weeks rather than screaming “pumpkin spice.” Layered underneath, sage-green foliage and rusty little fern sprigs give it depth without fighting for attention.

    Then came the berries — deep, wine-burgundy clusters tucked in close to the leaves, giving the whole thing a little weight and richness. And finally, the piece that ties it all together: a wide burgundy ribbon, hand-tied into a full, loose bow with long, trailing tails that spill almost to the bottom of the wreath. I let those tails move — no stiff, symmetrical loops here. I wanted it to feel like something you’d find growing wild, not something stamped out of a mold.

    I hung this one on the old oak in the yard to photograph it, and honestly, it might be my favorite styling shot I’ve taken all year. Something about the bark, the dappled light, the grass going a little golden in the background — it just felt right for this piece. It’s rustic without being rough, elegant without being fussy. It’s fall the way I actually experience it here at the ranch: warm, a little worn-in, and full of texture.

    I loved this design so much that I’m keeping one for my own front door this year — which almost never happens. Usually everything I make goes straight to the shop, but this one earned a spot at my house too.

    The good news is I made a few, and there are still a couple left in the shop if you’d like one for your own door:

    👉 Autumn Fall Burgundy Foliage Wreath

    If you’ve been looking for a fall wreath that leans elegant and antique rather than bright and bold, I think this might be the one. And if you make one yours, I’d love to see it on your door too.

    Until next time, Ronnie Kay

  • When Your House Makes Perfect Sense From the Inside: Fixing My 90s Ranch Entryway for Real Life (and Etsy Photos)

    Part One of the That 90s Ranch Entryway Series

    If you’ve ever driven through the countryside outside of Springfield, Missouri, you’ve probably noticed something charming and slightly puzzling about the homes built here in the 1990s. When this part of the Ozarks was just beginning to boom — when young families were buying small plots of two or three acres, digging their own wells, installing septics, and dreaming up floor plans without the help of an architect — they built homes that worked for them. Practical. Personal. And occasionally, a little quirky by conventional standards.

    My 90s ranch is no exception.

    From the outside, my entryway looks a little odd. The front door faces west, flanked by a sidelite that throws off any sense of symmetry. There’s a storm door that reflects everything and photographs nothing well.

    Step inside though, and suddenly it all makes perfect sense.

    The foyer opens up beautifully. A navy blue accent wall anchors the space with confidence. A Persian rug in rich reds and blues grounds the hardwood floors. A vintage coat rack stands sentinel by the front door, and the light fixture overhead casts a warm, welcoming glow. It’s a real home, lived in and loved, full of personality that no cookie-cutter floor plan could have predicted. The tray ceiling does not sit in the center of the room which drive me bonkers, and the windows are crazy narrow which was seems to be customary at the time of construction.

    This is the story of so many homes built in this corner of Missouri during that era. The builders — our parents, our neighbors, ourselves — were practical people solving practical problems on their own terms. If the lot sloped a certain way, the door went where it made sense. If the family needed a side entrance for muddy boots and grocery runs, that door got built where it worked, not where a designer might have placed it for curb appeal.

    I’ve been thinking about this a lot lately as I’ve been working to improve the photography for my Etsy shop, RonnieKayDesign, where I sell handmade floral wreaths. Good wreath photography requires a good door. And good door photography, it turns out, requires thinking creatively about what you actually have — and what you can coax it into becoming.

    So that overlooked 32-inch side door coming off of the garage? Oof! The one that faces south and catches the most gorgeous afternoon light you’ve ever seen bouncing off warm Missouri brick? That’s my project now.

    Over the next few posts I’m going to share how I’m transforming this quirky little side entrance — painting, styling, and staging it — into both a functional entryway and a photography backdrop I’m actually proud of. No professional contractor. No big budget. Just a woman, her paint brushes, and a deep appreciation for the perfectly imperfect homes that this corner of the Ozarks built for itself.

    Because sometimes the quirkiest parts of your home turn out to be the most interesting.

    Stay tuned for Part Two, where I tackle the paint and show you the before and after of the side door transformation.