at first, i couldn't imagine ever liking it. two different kinds of very old linoleum on the floor. stained and fading formica countertops. dark, ugly cupboards, with metal shelving. ancient appliances. not much room for a large (both in number and in size) family that loves to cook together.
but over the years, we have learned to take turns in here, to "tag team". if someone chops veggies on one side of the galley, someone else can mix and bake on the other. washing up teams have a chance for one-on-one conversations. tea is brewed, soups are simmered, scones are baked, root veggies are roasted, champagne corks are popped, cider is mulled in the crock pot, oatmeal is celebrated and pies are revered.
sometimes we even manage dance parties in here.
vermont public radio is often tuned in. "eye on the sky" weather forecasts, BBC news, "on being with krista tippet" on sunday mornings, "moth radio hour", "wait wait don't tell me" and "a prairie home companion" are faves.
sometimes we pull veggies from our gardens, bring them up the stairs and into the kitchen and cook them up in a matter of minutes. that is fast food of the very best kind! and local? utterly!
we dream of a large, open kitchen, with a family/harvest table front and center. a gas range with six burners and a double oven. a real pantry, filled with our own dried herbs, jars of food put by, containers of beans and grains lined up, baskets of garlic, onions and shallots. a shelf filled with well loved cookbooks.
open shelving in the kitchen itself might hold nesting bowls, hand-me-down colanders, wooden spoons, a bamboo steamer, pitchers and cast iron skillets. a window shelf filled with potted herbs would be lovely. there will be linen tea towels and lots of them.
someday this little kitchen here in vermont (that i have become so fond of in spite of myself) may turn into the stuff of dreams. until then, i will delight in its simple hospitality, just the way it is.
Autumn makes a double demand. It asks that we prepare for the future--that we be wise in the ways of garnering and keeping. But it also asks that we learn to let go--to acknowledge the beauty of sparseness.
Well, dear friends, it's official. We have taken our CT house off the market. We will try again next spring. This was a disappointing decision for us to make, and we have worked hard to find some peace with it. Once we finally get to the end of this real estate adventure, I'll tell you the whole story, but right now, I'd just like to let it rest.
Batman and I are resilient, we share a vision of our future and we support one another in this "being patient thing". (That right there is a huge blessing that I do not take for granted).
As the weeks pass, I'll spend less time here in VT, and more back in CT. I'll make the best of it...catching up with friends, getting back into my studio, volunteering and having more time with my sweet Batman.
I continue to work on mindfulness, gratitude and being present. For me, it's the best way forward.
"You did not have to understand miracles to believe in them, and in fact Mabel had come to suspect the opposite. To believe, perhaps you had to cease looking for explanations and instead hold the little things in your hands as long as you were able before it slipped like water between your fingers."
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