New Year's Day has come and gone. I ate my black-eyed peas and cabbage like a good girl and dismantled the Christmas tree in record speed for an old lady. I cleaned out the top tray on my desk and ended up feeling quite accomplished. I've decided 2014 will be the year of less. (Remind me I said that in a few weeks.)
And so it's back to normal around here, which is the state I most often prefer.
I have friends who swap up the furniture as often as they change shoes, but I find there's something peaceful about the familiar.
Although winters in my little woods aren't harsh (thank the Lord), we do have some cold, gray days. I find they provide the perfect backdrop for ridding my home of clutter, for making room for the coming of spring—space to breathe, space to bloom.
I don't know how I would deal with extreme winter conditions, but here in the South, I find a certain pleasure in the settling in for the season ...
in the goodness that comes out of my kitchen ...
and in the soft light of a candle in the late afternoon.
"Winter," Edith Sitwell wrote, "is the time for comfort, for good food and warmth, for the touch of a friendly hand and for a talk beside the fire: it is the time for home."
Until next time, dear friends, thanks for keeping me company. May you be warmed and filled, wherever you are.