Not sure what we’ll find there, but it’s time to start picking up the pieces. Everyone we know is putting on their muck boots and coming with us and our hearts are big, and full and a little hollow. Try imagining a place where it’s always safe and warm…
Little by little the bird feathers its nest, and object by heart burnished object we surround ourselves with lovely necessities of memory and function. It is these things that make a silly Apartment a Home or a silly Wednesday an Occasion.
Whether my nest is an old farmhouse, a sixth floor tenement walk up, or a brownstone basement... whether I share it with family, vagabonds, women of heart and mind, or a little brown cat and a sweet ginger banjo, my principal joy is filling it with light and laughter (and corralling).
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