The real measure of a home? How it makes you feel

The real measure of a home? How it makes you feel

A room that felt breezy in July can seem stark in October. Adding layers — pillows, rugs, curtains — grounds a space.

Kerri-Lee Mayland

They are hard to miss — eye-popping mansions so large it takes a few seconds just to drive by as your eyes try to take it all in. Commanding? Absolutely. But the measure of a home’s success isn’t square footage. It’s the feeling a space creates.

I was reminded of that during a visit to a friend’s home in Ottawa last fall. He and his wife invited us over for what turned out to be one of the most memorable evenings of the season.

Their house sits on a tree-lined street not far from the downtown center — the kind of neighborhood perfect for trick-or-treating, where you could collect a good haul of candy in a short time. There’s no room for sprawling country estates here. These city homes balance history and charm while offering something even more meaningful: warmth.

Nelson is a self-taught pizza connoisseur. We arrived to his station of homemade dough and countless topping combinations he picked up earlier that day from a nearby Italian market. His setup included a large brick oven that glowed near a red-and-white checkered tablecloth, with soft Italian music playing. The table was set beneath string lights, and the night air carried that unmistakable mix of woodsmoke and autumn chill. Neighbors drifted by — one stopped after work for a slice — and before long, Nelson and Deanna’s little backyard felt like a scene from a storybook.

At one point, Nelson said, “You’ve seen my home…it’s not huge.” I cut him off immediately. “It doesn’t matter,” I said. “It’s how a home feels — and yours is off the charts with warmth!” That night crystallized a truth I carry into my work with clients here in Litchfield County, and specifically in Lakeville, where most homes are intentionally not McMansions. Instead, they are charming cottages and rambling older homes — smaller in size but bursting with character, history and heart.

I recently worked with a family in Canaan who wrestled with this very issue. Their home brimmed with treasures from abroad — textiles, pottery, artwork and sentimental mementos too precious to discard. Each piece told a story, but together they overwhelmed the eye. By editing and layering, we allowed their favorites to shine while storing others for later rotation. The result was a home that breathed. When they hosted friends, guests noticed not the size of the house, but the warmth of its atmosphere.

Creating that kind of feeling doesn’t require an interior designer — or a big budget, to be honest. It often comes down to intention. A well-placed lamp that softens the evening light. A textured throw across a sofa. A dining table, however small, always ready to fit one more chair. These touches whisper “welcome” in ways oversized square footage never can.

Fall is the perfect season to reassess. A room that felt breezy in July can seem stark in October. Adding layers — pillows, rugs, curtains — grounds a space. But restraint is just as important. Too many seasonal touches, and a home tips into clutter. Too few, and it feels unfinished. Somewhere in the middle lies the sweet spot, where comfort and style meet.

I often suggest what I call the “guest test.” Imagine a friend stopping by on a chilly evening. Would they feel comfortable settling in with a cup of tea or a glass of wine? If the answer is yes, you’ve likely found the balance.

Homes don’t need to impress physically. They need to express emotionally. Guests won’t remember if your bookshelf was perfectly styled, but they will remember how your home made them feel — cozy, cared for and welcome. That’s the magic.

My Ottawa friend’s city house proved it best. Under twinkling lights, with dough stretched by hand and endless laughter in the night air, it wasn’t about size at all. It was about warmth, generosity and connection — the true heart of every home. In Lakeville, that same spirit shines through smaller cottages and rambling homes, where charm, character and care create spaces people love to linger in.

Because in the end, a home isn’t measured in square feet, but in the memories it holds.

Kerri-Lee Mayland is an Emmy award-winning news anchor and designer. She lives in Lakeville.

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