I grew up in a house where the routine of the day consisted of crumpling pages of old newspapers into knots, placing them among the chopped wood, lighting them and hoping that the fire underneath the stove would take. My mum might have repeated the process two or more times before the fire sparkled out promising a meal, hot water and warmth in the winter. I took over the ritual of the dawn not long before I flew abroad, joyously watching it smouldering away because of my efforts. She would manage the whole household, walk until late hours tiding up, clattering the dishes as me and my brother watched the blinding kitchen light from the opposite room. Today I realized I am trying to recreate some of that childhood magic through candlelit interiors and lights dimmed so that they throw long shadows on tiled floor and create familiar nooks full of future memories. There's always a candle flickering away for hours on this surface or another while lost in exploration we spend our days (add hot chocolate with marshmallows and another level of awesome is certainly achieved).
During this past month we've squeezed in as much family time as possible (chicken pox, you'll never be forgotten but you may be forgiven) - we drew pictures, played cars and watched alarming amount of movies this little girl was once obsessed about. The lack of scheduled and necessary always feels so good. Until next year, we'll roam and run, plan and achieve. I kid. Only a little. Have a fab New Year friends! x
|These days her attention has sort of gone on a different route, cars and x-box? Girl, where are you?|