I’m like a kid in a candy store this week, or just a grownup getting to stay home until after the first of the year, hanging out in my jammies, drinking hot chocolate, and getting some long neglected house projects out of the way.
There have been several phone calls back and forth with a local homeless shelter regarding the donation of the bed in my spare room. Once it goes to a family in need I’ll have that room clear to transform it into what I’ve been wanting for years – a writing/art room. A studio. A room of one's own. Then I’ll have no excuse to avoid writing, and my creative messes will be limited to one room instead of spread around the rest of the house.
This post is being written on my new toy; my husband gave me a new laptop for Christmas. I’ve wanted one for years, and now that I’ll have a room just for me it’s the perfect gift at the perfect time. Yep, I’m like a kid in a candy store. And it’s only going to get better.
Monday, December 21, 2009
I’m sitting here at the computer wrapped in a blanket with a hot cup of tea in front of me. It’s cold and gloomy outside, and not so much better inside. Until I moved into this house I’d spent a good portion of my adult life heating with wood. Sometimes it was my only heat source. While I’d gotten tired of hauling wood – and making sure I had a good supply in before the first cold days – I’ve never fallen out of love with a good, roaring fire. Forced air heat doesn’t compare. There’s nothing to cozy up to and you can’t warm your toes on a heating vent in the ceiling. It doesn’t even look warm.
There are all sorts of reasons not to have wood fire; it’s bad for the environment, you have to cut down trees for fuel, it’s messy and time-consuming. But right now, honestly, I don’t care. I miss a fire. It’s really the only way I know to make a house toasty warm and welcoming during the dark winter days.
And here we are at the Winter Solstice - the shortest day of the year, the longest night, the day the light begins its return. I like to do a little ritual every year at this time to welcome warmth back to the world, inviting the light into my home. It makes me appreciate the winter more and keeps me aware that spring will come, no matter how dark and cold it is until then.
Until then I’ll light lots of candles and drink cup after cup of tea.
Sunday, December 13, 2009
I like ordinary things. Plain, everyday things that have been lived with for a long time. New has little appeal for me, instead it’s the scratched piece, or the one with a dent I like. The well-loved, but not threadbare thing I, or someone else, have owned for years. There’s a sense of continuity that makes me feel at home.
When I look around my house I see the couch my husband brought from his first marriage (it’s in ridiculously good condition) and the china hutch I brought from mine, a cupboard my husband made using old glass doors I found at a garage sale, a desk I bought at an estate sale 27 years ago. And little things: cloth napkins that get softer with each washing, a small clock I can hear tick-tocking from the other side of the house, mixing bowls I’ve collected from thrift stores and garage sales, the afghan I crocheted while healing from my first heartbreak a lifetime ago.
They’re all ordinary things, simple belongings that remind me that I’m making a home to live in for a long time. They’re part of my future now, as well as my history.
What ordinary thing makes you feel cozy in your home? Does it have a story?