Forecasters are predicting a foot of snow to accumulate by tomorrow evening. It’s a perfect day to keep a fire going in the cook stove. As long as the tea kettle sings or hums, I know that there’s a sustainable fire going on in there. Silence means that I’ve allowed the kettle to go dry or the fire is all but out.
Apparently it’s time to brainstorm a room refresh for spring. When I fixed the coffee table this morning for function and beauty for this week, I wanted my favorite stack of home decor books placed there. The snow falling all day is glorious, too. Who doesn’t love a snow day! But I want a bit of yellow on the table, maybe a new runner or new placemats. The new batch of tapers could be beeswax. So while I quilt, I watch the snow and turn the pages of my book slowly, between stretches of stitching. The tea kettle hums.
While our little world holds me in this pocket of time and place, I am not lulled into taking it for granted. Many ordinary folks like me, surrounded by home and family, are dreading the wounding changes of war and horror. I watched a documentary of rural life in Ukraine, enjoying the beautiful country side and their humble living. Thinking about Russia, being Russia, again. I just want to know why! I’m sure there’s so much I don’t understand, but to me, this situation is heartbreaking. What to do about it? Here in my cozy corner, I am praying for those folks: the ones at home waiting for hell to land, the soldiers from Russia, perched on the borders wishing they, too could be at home with their wives and hearths, and the powers that be plying their egos for their own zealous, jealous goals.
On a happier note, I am also following the Endurance expedition being posted on Instagram as it takes place. The photography is amazing. So is the technology. And, of course, so is the idea that perhaps they can find Shackleton’s ship, sunk in the sea under the ice.
Finally, I am grateful for each day of ordinary endeavors and comforts, because I know that changes always come along sooner or later. Making the best of each moment today prepares us for the unknowns of tomorrow. That’s all anyone can do, really.
Stone House Scribblings 