A House That Became My Muse | Wendy's Home Tour

When I first walked through the hallway of this Georgian farmhouse in Dunbar, I felt it immediately.

The light transported me back to the family home where I grew up. Its wonderfully long hallways, with their south-westerly aspect overlooking the enclosed garden, allow daylight to flood every corner. Almost every principal room looks towards that garden, drawing nature gently indoors and changing the character of the house as the light moves from morning until evening. It felt familiar. It felt like home.

At the time, it belonged to a friend, but I remember quietly thinking, if ever there were a house I could imagine living in, this would be it. Life, however, has a lovely habit of arranging things we could never have planned.

Having just returned from two years living in France, Gregor and I were simply looking for somewhere to rent. My friend had temporarily relocated to Texas and was renting out the farmhouse. One conversation later, we found ourselves moving into the very house that had stayed quietly in my thoughts.

The decoration was pleasant, practical and largely untouched, yet her proportions were generous, her Georgian bones elegant, and the changing light transformed every room throughout the day. Rather than imposing ideas upon her, she gently guided my choices of colour, pattern and scale, and the more I trusted the house, the more confident I became.

Looking back now, I realise this house became my muse. It encouraged me to trust my instincts, to embrace colour and pattern with confidence, and to create without fear of convention. In many ways, it shaped not only this home, but the designer I have become.

Around the same time, Instagram was becoming a wonderful place for creatives to share their work. Quite suddenly, I had both a home and a platform: a place where I could photograph my rugs, style them within real rooms, layered, personal and full of life. It was also a lot of fun. 

All of our rugs are first photographed here.

Perhaps what I love most is that none of it was planned. There was never a masterplan. The house evolved as our family evolved. As the business grew, the interiors changed with it. As my confidence deepened, so too did my willingness to embrace colour, pattern and the unexpected. For me, it was always about working with the house and the beautiful light she offered.

The hallway that first drew me in has quietly become a gallery of our lives. Family photographs sit alongside paintings collected over many years, each one marking a memory or a moment in time. It's the first thing visitors see, but for me it has always been a reminder that a home should tell your story.

Recently, we immersed the room in our One Hundred Birds One Hundred Flowers wall décor, framed with panelling painted in one of the greens from the design itself. The height of the ceilings required a little ingenuity, creating a dado where one had never existed before. What might have seemed a compromise became one of my favourite details. It also gave me the opportunity to layer our wallpapers with the existing Joie de Vivre panels that had formed the backdrop to the room for many years. Design often rewards us when we embrace a challenge rather than resist it.

The snug tells an entirely different story.

Its lower ceiling invited cosiness rather than grandeur, so I wrapped it completely in our Eternal Toile wallpaper. Filled with cranes, mountains and symbols of a long and happy life drawn from Chinese philosophy, it has become one of the most nurturing rooms in the house.

The lilac picked from the cranes continues across the ceiling before being echoed in our original hand-knotted Eternal Toile rug. It's unapologetically layered, yet the room feels wonderfully peaceful. Living here taught me that maximalism needn't feel overwhelming. When every element belongs together, abundance can be every bit as calming as simplicity.

Gregor has quietly claimed this room as his study. It cocoons him, and I rather love that.

As we've grown older, we've naturally gravitated towards the lounge in the evenings. It's where we come together at the end of the day. Dinner often finds its way there, as do board games, films and the occasional World Cup.

One of the things I love most about this house is the way it blurs the boundary between indoors and out. With its south-westerly aspect and almost every principal room opening onto the sheltered garden, nature is never simply something viewed through a window. The changing light, the movement of the trees and the rhythm of the seasons become part of everyday life inside the house.

On warm days, the garden doors stand open while music drifts outside, and for a few precious hours house, garden and family life seem to flow together as one.

Wrapped in our Mandela wallpaper, touched with gold, birds and butterflies, the room changes beautifully as evening falls. Talisman anchors the space with quiet confidence, while Moondance Nature softens it with gentle movement beneath our glass dining table. Every layer reveals itself a little more as the light changes.

As evening gives way to morning, light and life naturally return to the kitchen. 

I do love my kitchen. It isn't modern in any conventional sense, and I've never wanted it to be. The black-painted cabinetry sits comfortably alongside our A Mughal Painting wallpaper, creating a space that feels timeless, warm and unmistakably ours. The kitchen opens directly onto the back garden, acting as a gateway where the boys race from the breakfast table out into the trees.

Although slightly tucked away, the kitchen opens directly onto the back garden. Over the years that space has evolved from orderly vegetable beds and herbs to a rather joyful home for our chickens and ducks. They've gently claimed it as their own, and I wouldn't have it any other way. The kitchen where the true rhythm of family life unfolds. It's where every day begins over coffee, where we spend hours cooking, and where friends instinctively gather the moment they arrive. Conversation always seems to flow more easily around the kitchen table than anywhere else in the house.

That round table is one of my most treasured finds. I discovered it in a little brocante during our years living near Geneva, and it has travelled home with us ever since. It has witnessed countless conversations, celebrations, everyday suppers and endless cups of tea. Like so many of the pieces I treasure, it has earned its place not because it is precious, but because it has been so well lived with.

Upstairs, our bedroom has always been somewhere to exhale. Its deep Georgian cornicing and tall windows overlooking the garden invite stillness. I wrapped the room in our Joie de Vivre panels and surrounded them with the gentlest green. Green has always felt restorative to me. It brings the garden indoors, softening the room before you've even climbed into bed.

For this home tour we've dressed the room with Kujaku. I love the richness of her colours against the green walls. Morning light reveals something different every day, and although many rugs have lived in this room over the years, this one feels especially at home.

Watching our boys grow up here has probably been one of life's greatest privileges. 

I haven't deliberately designed with them in mind. The interiors have evolved around our lives rather than being planned for them, and perhaps that is why they feel so natural. But it has been fascinating to watch them grow older and develop their own appreciation for colour, pattern and beautiful interiors. They notice things now. They understand, almost instinctively, why a rug matters, why a wallpaper creates a feeling, why a room can make you exhale the moment you walk into it. I guess the house has been teaching them quietly about living with intention.

Being on the edge of Dunbar, with the East Coast just beyond, has given them something equally precious: freedom and independence from quite an early age. They've grown up running towards the sea, exploring the spaces between town and wildness. Now, as we prepare to leave, I find myself seeing this house rather differently, as the place that has quietly shaped almost every part of my creative life.

It gave me walls that welcomed colour, windows that taught me to notice light, rooms that encouraged experimentation and a garden that reminded me, every single day, of the joy of bringing nature indoors. It became the backdrop to countless photographs, the birthplace of many collections and, above all, the home where our family has lived, celebrated and grown together.

People often ask where my inspiration comes from. I used to think it was travel, history or nature. They have all played their part. But looking back now, I realise it has been this house that has quite simply, became my muse.

Watch our home tour on YouTube and step inside the house that has inspired so much of Wendy Morrison Design.