IIf you follow me on Facebook, you may have seen an Instagram photo I posted recently showing the dishes on my dining room wall. The room is starting to come together, but my baker’s rack felt like it was floating in the middle of the wall and the four plates nearby looked too isolated. Every time I photographed the wall I noticed the imbalance, so I added four more plates to create a stronger visual connection between the plates and the baker’s rack.
As I hung those plates and photographed the results, I found myself thinking about how much of daily life revolves around dishes. I walked through the house taking pictures and reflecting on everyday rituals that involve them.
I have always loved plates on the wall. It may feel old-fashioned to some, but I still find that look simple and lovely. I’m not a fussy decorator, so simple, clean dishes appeal to me whether they’re hung on the wall, displayed on the baker’s rack, or stacked on open shelves. They symbolize order and beauty.
Beyond their aesthetic, my dishes carry memories. Over the years I’ve collected a variety of white dishes, and they remind me of family gatherings and holidays at home. Small daily rituals — filling a morning coffee mug, grabbing cereal bowls before school, or setting out dinner plates at night — feel meaningful. Those little privileges could be easy to overlook, but they matter to me. I feel blessed to experience them.
That said, while clean dishes make me happy, dirty dishes make me cranky. I don’t like to see dishes piled up in the kitchen. More dishes on the wall or on display? Yes. More dishes left on the counter? No. Dirty dishes can smell, and a smelly kitchen is not something I accept.
My husband dislikes dishes left on the counter, so when we’re too busy to unload and reload the dishwasher he often stacks them in the sink. I don’t like dishes in the sink — the clatter of them tipping or the splash if they fall drives me nuts. The energy put into precarious sink-piling would be better spent unloading and loading the dishwasher. Over the years I’ve learned that if I don’t load the dishwasher at night, I’m likely to wake up in a bad mood. I’d rather take a few minutes each evening to deal with dishes than start the next day cranky.
I also appreciate how well my white dishes fit in my new dishwasher. Its design makes loading enjoyable, a small detail that makes a difference in my routine. Life is too short to wrestle with clumsy dishwashers.
That ease is part of why I enjoy open shelves for dishes. It’s simple to take a clean dish from the dishwasher and set it directly on the shelf. I also loved having white dishes behind glass cabinet doors in our previous house and hope to have glass-front cabinets again someday. I remember the feel of the glass knobs and the sense of calm when the cabinets were full of clean dishes. Those simple memories of order brought me joy.
dishwasher incident at my old house: blogged about way back in 2007
We’ve had our share of dish-related learning experiences. One memorable mistake was discovering that dishwashing soap and dishwasher detergent are not interchangeable. The first time we used dish soap in the dishwasher, bubbles filled the house and ran down the hallway — and yes, we learned that lesson twice. We still laugh about the memory.
As much as I appreciate seeing dirty dishes neatly loaded in the dishwasher, I love even more the feeling of emptying it and putting away the clean dishes. When the last plate is returned to its place and the machine is empty, I pause and admire it. That small sense of accomplishment early in the day gives me momentum and makes me feel ready to take on whatever comes next. It really doesn’t take much to make me happy.
So fess up. I want to know.
Have you ever put dish soap in your dishwasher? Ha, ha. Good times.
It may seem trivial to find joy in everyday routines like setting the table or tidying up at night, but moments like these feel especially important when tragedy strikes elsewhere. Events such as the tornadoes in Alabama remind me to treasure ordinary, safe moments at home. There is so much loss and devastation in those circumstances, and being grateful for small comforts matters.
This post was part of a homemaking series. The opinions expressed are my own.
The other posts in this series include: My New Dishwasher, Order from Chaos, 3 Truths and a Lie, and How to Organize a Kitchen.