Ah, loves. When it feels like our pillars are shifting, our anchors aren’t holding, and our normal is not anymore, take heart.

There was our life, tumbled to the table, spread out. Snapshots. In the hard places, the messy places, and the happy ones, too, frames were frozen. Us, captured.

The cool touch of a porcelain knob in the palm of your hand, the comforting weight of a solid wood door as you swing it closed, the quiet click of the latch bolt as it pops into place.

It seems to begin with a sort of discomfort, a feeling of misfit with the norm.

Loves, I’m so happy to finally welcome you to my new site!

That a simple turn of a calendar page can give you the feeling of a fresh start, that a new year does, indeed, feel new, is a particular wonder.

The evergreen garland, the stately tree, the sparkling baubles, the quietly indulgent drapery of midwinter holiday cheer is soon to commence over here. (So much later than is usual for us, but I’ve decided this is okay.)

It’s a quiet morning here, the day after Thanksgiving. I’ve lit a candle, as I always do, and have tucked onto the sofa to savor my first cup of tea as daylight slowly comes.

Relaxed, calming, welcoming. With these words, I’m talking of home. (You might have guessed.)

We sliced a section right out of the middle of life, and escaped to autumn in the mountains of northwest Montana, my original home.

Black porcelain doorknobs with unlacquered brass rosettes arrived in the mail last week. So did and achingly beautiful faucet.

The boxelder, sentinel of the west lawn, is always the first to announce summer’s ease into fall.