I had it down for awhile after it came to me when my mother down-sized, then sent it to the cleaners, keeping it wrapped up for almost a year before unfurling it a few weeks ago. It was jarring the first time around. Now? I moved two other carpets into the area (which you can't see, unfortunately) and somehow more is more—my eye doesn't mind all the pattern. This makes for 4 carpets in the living room—6 if you count the two on the chair. Very English Country House Style—Victorian even—the kind of thing that transpires over a number of years, which certainly is the case here.
The carpet is Iranian, or so the cleaner (who knows a thing or two) told me—dating from the 1930's. It sat underneath my parent's dining room table for a good 30 years after being acquired by my mother at an auction in Doylestown, Pennsylvania. It's bold for the room, that's for sure, and clashes with the other colors to some extent. But I careth not. Not at the moment anyway, even if my brain is plotting a brass and glass coffee-table—if only to see the carpet even more.
Oh, Happy 4th! My fireworks are on the floor.