Monday, October 21, 2013
In My Room . . . .Contented. . . .
I had such a moment on Sunday afternoon, the wood stove crackling its heat generously into the room. And such a frisson of pleasure I had at the room we've created together over the past fifteen years. Books and music and beach stones, paintings and cabinetry and wood-turning by friends, quirky lamps and dog sculptures and tables that were only meant as temporary but have somehow come to "do" . . . you can't see the grand piano whose lid I don't open enough, but it links me right back to the first piano I played, a big old Canadian-made upright, stitching my decades together. . . And every house I've ever lived in has had windows with a view and these views sometimes form a double exposure over the trees and ocean views I see here. . . .
I think I won't say another word. Except perhaps to ask if you know the kind of moment I mean. I do hope so -- I wish you one, soon.
By the way, I've heard that some readers are having trouble leaving comments. If you're frustrated by whichever portal is currently closing the gate on your message, you could try to send me an email instead: fsproutATgmailDOTcom (except that you substitute @ and . where appropriate, but I'm sure you already know that!)