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20181001-carmellarayone-201810019015.jpg

Hello, Hello

October 03, 2018 by Carmella Rayone in nurture
20181001-carmellarayone-201810019014.jpg

Hello, loves! 

Here we are, together again, with October all around. Can you believe it? Could there be a better time and place than this venue of autumn with its flinging of golden confetti in which to celebrate our connection with each other again?

I love how, in fall, morning fog covers the landscape in mystery, how its veil reveals just a glimpse. It zings my heart every morning that I see a shroud of fog beyond my windows as darkness turns to dawn. The same view is there, as there is every morning, but now it’s draped in a perspective completely new. Something of a metaphor, it seems. We may only see an outline of what’s ahead, this beautiful landscape before us. But, though it may be foggy and hard to define, it’s still fully there, waiting for us to go to it, experience it, capture it, and live it. 

My time away from the regular work of planning, producing, and publishing content on the blog and social media has been so beautiful, so necessary for health, for growth, for perspective. Quieting the outward noise and focusing inward. Experiencing life and listening to my own creative influence has been restorative, an infusion of energy that has felt like life itself. Here is where I find clarity and peace. Where I find inspiration. Where the ideas flow. 

Then, at the end of rest, it’s good to come back. Back to the beauty of creating. To the beauty of words. To the beauty of connection. Back to you. 

I’m excited to be alive right now. To be a creative right now. To be living well in beauty, humbled by its strength, nurtured by its grace. To understand what that is; to have no idea, ever a student of things deeper than I.

I have more for you, loves, but today, I just wanted to say hello.

And?

It’s good to be back. 


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Carmella Rayone
Here, I write on living well. Where tasteful design and simple living meet in an inspired, organic way. 


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I couldn’t wait any longer. Didn’t matter that it was -4F out there (isn’t that what wooly layers are for?), didn’t matter that I’d had several long days and short nights in a row, didn’t matter that my bags from a recent trip to see a new out of state project were still sitting on the bedroom floor where I’d dropped them.
.
.
There was a deep quiet that I needed, and it was waiting for me in the hushed woods, in the twitter of winter birds, in the movement of icy water, in the millions of snowflakes that rested in puffy white layers that covered the forest floor. .
.
There was wisdom in that place. Gentle guidance reminding me that molehills are not mountains, that the chafing places are just places, that although I have circumstances in life that may feel like unfair disadvantage (You, too?), I also have circumstances that are straight up privilege (Yes. You, too). .
.
Here’s the miracle of it all: I get to decide which I’ll focus on. I get to choose which way I’ll respond. Will I see the unfair and be resentful? Or, will I notice my own privilege, respond with gratitude, and take up the opportunity it provides?
.
.
Loves, let’s find ourselves lost in the wild.
.
.
Let’s take what we have and run with it.
Remember when we were little and our favorite places were those that were tucked away and right-sized for our size? 
They were places we had to crawl into, that nestled and cocooned us as we whiled away the minutes in imaginative play. 
Nests. Hideaways. Forts. Usually made of boxes, blankets, maybe sticks. 
Drawn by enclosure, we were hidden within a framework of comfort where the ominous world out there couldn’t reach us.
Child’s play, lost in imagination and wild abandon, that’s child’s play long since past, you might be thinking. Only memories now, you might be saying. 
But the truth is, we all want to feel held. 
Even now. 
Even our adult selves, in our adult lives, in our adult world. We want a place tucked away that’s right sized for our size. 
A place we can crawl into, that nestles and cocoons, a respite from the ominous world out there. 
We might call it a niche, or a nook, or a window seat. It’s all of these. 
Whether it’s framed into the architecture, or feels like it is, these grown-up hideaways nurture in a way that feels familiar and good.
A super red wolf moon. Though I kept checking (hoping), the best I could see was its faint circle for just a few seconds before the early morning’s fast moving storm clouds hid it away once again. No matter, it’s light still fell like a milky glow over the landscape. I turned off the porch light, leaving only a single candle burning inside by which to see while I poured steaming water into my cup of tea, a cup that had been sitting on the counter, ready since the night before. And there was I, silently thrilled by the new evening habit that had made my morning like this.
It’s true. 
January might be my favorite month (ah, yes, until October comes…). I love the dark mornings that last and last. Love the explosion of color as sunlight scores the eastern sky. Love the early arrival of evening that gives permission for the day’s work to be done then, too. I love how January is quiet, restful, reflective and hopeful. The cold reminds me to cherish warmth. The snow reminds me that simplicity is beautiful. The golden glow from the windows of a tucked-in house draw me from the outside in. Hibernating. A cocooning that is tender, nurturer of infant dreams.

So thoughtful, so wise that an entire year should begin this way. It makes me realize that I, too, want to begin things in a gentle way. I’ll take the soft opening over the grand one. I’ll send a personal invitation instead of renting a billboard. I’ll light a flame, then watch it go from wick to wick to wick.
A quick change - the Christmas tree for this wild thing. And just like that, we’re into winter. Not the holidays any longer, but pure, fresh, winter with the feeling of icy blues, charcoal grays, caramels, and whites outside. Inside, there will always be some green to go with it - the suggestion of a vibrant conservatory on this side of the glass, defying the zero temperatures on the other side. #carmellarayone #liveauthentic #houseplants #homedesign #homewithrue #simpleliving #livingwell #onlivingwell
It was the day after Thanksgiving, the one day available for five people going in five directions to have a quick photo taken. Just as we were ready to step out the door, it started raining. So, a quick plan adjustment lead to a 4,000 ft elevation gain in a 30 minute drive up the mountain to get above the rain....but, we found ourselves in a near white-out blizzard😳❄️. Split the difference between those two elevations and there we found a rock outcropping lightly dusted with snow. Everyone piled out of the car and scrambled up to the top (Nellie was in heaven, as you can see). This was the first shot.  Happy New Year, loves. Thank you so much for reading & following both here and on the blog. I’m excited to share 2019 with you. 😘
I couldn’t wait any longer. Didn’t matter that it was -4F out there (isn’t that what wooly layers are for?), didn’t matter that I’d had several long days and short nights in a row, didn’t matter that my bags from a recent trip to see a new out of state project were still sitting on the bedroom floor where I’d dropped them.
.
.
There was a deep quiet that I needed, and it was waiting for me in the hushed woods, in the twitter of winter birds, in the movement of icy water, in the millions of snowflakes that rested in puffy white layers that covered the forest floor. .
.
There was wisdom in that place. Gentle guidance reminding me that molehills are not mountains, that the chafing places are just places, that although I have circumstances in life that may feel like unfair disadvantage (You, too?), I also have circumstances that are straight up privilege (Yes. You, too). .
.
Here’s the miracle of it all: I get to decide which I’ll focus on. I get to choose which way I’ll respond. Will I see the unfair and be resentful? Or, will I notice my own privilege, respond with gratitude, and take up the opportunity it provides?
.
.
Loves, let’s find ourselves lost in the wild.
.
.
Let’s take what we have and run with it. Remember when we were little and our favorite places were those that were tucked away and right-sized for our size? 
They were places we had to crawl into, that nestled and cocooned us as we whiled away the minutes in imaginative play. 
Nests. Hideaways. Forts. Usually made of boxes, blankets, maybe sticks. 
Drawn by enclosure, we were hidden within a framework of comfort where the ominous world out there couldn’t reach us.
Child’s play, lost in imagination and wild abandon, that’s child’s play long since past, you might be thinking. Only memories now, you might be saying. 
But the truth is, we all want to feel held. 
Even now. 
Even our adult selves, in our adult lives, in our adult world. We want a place tucked away that’s right sized for our size. 
A place we can crawl into, that nestles and cocoons, a respite from the ominous world out there. 
We might call it a niche, or a nook, or a window seat. It’s all of these. 
Whether it’s framed into the architecture, or feels like it is, these grown-up hideaways nurture in a way that feels familiar and good. A super red wolf moon. Though I kept checking (hoping), the best I could see was its faint circle for just a few seconds before the early morning’s fast moving storm clouds hid it away once again. No matter, it’s light still fell like a milky glow over the landscape. I turned off the porch light, leaving only a single candle burning inside by which to see while I poured steaming water into my cup of tea, a cup that had been sitting on the counter, ready since the night before. And there was I, silently thrilled by the new evening habit that had made my morning like this. It’s true. 
January might be my favorite month (ah, yes, until October comes…). I love the dark mornings that last and last. Love the explosion of color as sunlight scores the eastern sky. Love the early arrival of evening that gives permission for the day’s work to be done then, too. I love how January is quiet, restful, reflective and hopeful. The cold reminds me to cherish warmth. The snow reminds me that simplicity is beautiful. The golden glow from the windows of a tucked-in house draw me from the outside in. Hibernating. A cocooning that is tender, nurturer of infant dreams.

So thoughtful, so wise that an entire year should begin this way. It makes me realize that I, too, want to begin things in a gentle way. I’ll take the soft opening over the grand one. I’ll send a personal invitation instead of renting a billboard. I’ll light a flame, then watch it go from wick to wick to wick. A quick change - the Christmas tree for this wild thing. And just like that, we’re into winter. Not the holidays any longer, but pure, fresh, winter with the feeling of icy blues, charcoal grays, caramels, and whites outside. Inside, there will always be some green to go with it - the suggestion of a vibrant conservatory on this side of the glass, defying the zero temperatures on the other side. #carmellarayone #liveauthentic #houseplants #homedesign #homewithrue #simpleliving #livingwell #onlivingwell It was the day after Thanksgiving, the one day available for five people going in five directions to have a quick photo taken. Just as we were ready to step out the door, it started raining. So, a quick plan adjustment lead to a 4,000 ft elevation gain in a 30 minute drive up the mountain to get above the rain....but, we found ourselves in a near white-out blizzard😳❄️. Split the difference between those two elevations and there we found a rock outcropping lightly dusted with snow. Everyone piled out of the car and scrambled up to the top (Nellie was in heaven, as you can see). This was the first shot.  Happy New Year, loves. Thank you so much for reading & following both here and on the blog. I’m excited to share 2019 with you. 😘

 

 

October 03, 2018 /Carmella Rayone
autumn
nurture
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