This spring has brought sweet serenity to my days, which is just what I was hoping for after such a long, cold winter. It feels as though suddenly I have slightly more time in each day, partly but not wholly due to the extra sunlight. The time suddenly doesn’t feel so crammed now, especially in regard to my time spent in the kitchen.
Since I’m making everything from scratch, and have no dishwasher, I was feeling swallowed up by that room. Our kitchen is the darkest room in the house, with barely a view of anything. Our one window above the bar-height counter looks out over a lawn with some trees, but it’s so manicured, so man-made looking, and it’s bordered by a busy road with speeding cars. Our door provides the same view, when open, but when it’s shut–and dark out–it’s always put me a little on edge. The mini-blind doesn’t cover a sliver on each side of the door window, and I can’t help but imagine things peering in from the dark–”things” more so than people. It’s hard to contain my imagination when I have only walls to stare at, dull green walls that we’re not allowed to paint. Jared did paint one of them ivory–the one that backs our colorful little mosaic dinner table–so at least we have a peaceful place to eat.
But being able to keep the door open, and to dress how I’d like in this welcome warm weather, I find that I’m enjoying the work, and flying through. The smallest sensation of the wind catching my hair as I scrub the pots keeps me in just the right mood. I like to hear what’s going on outside as well. There are so many people out there. We are in the city, even if just a tiny one. It’s easy to forget that, when we’ve been bundled up inside all winter, almost in silence. But with all of the windows open, I’m continually made aware of the city sounds–swearing teenagers, dog’s leashes, sirens, crows–not all pleasant, but it keeps me feeling part of a community.
I’ve learned to enjoy where I am though. We won’t be in this apartment for much longer, so maybe it’s easier for me to soak in what is beautiful about it. We have a lovely living room–the center of our home–with ivory walls, dark wood beams, and bay windows. In the evenings the light that shines in is pure gold. It makes the space feel otherworldly, or at least romantic. We also have large, long windows (everywhere except in our kitchen) and are up on the second floor, which creates a sensation of living in a lighthouse, as the reflected car lights bounce around our walls. I constantly have to remind myself that I shouldn’t get dressed by the window, and wonder how often I’ve been caught.
I long for our own place. But at least now that we’re back in the warmer half of the year, I can feel a little more comfortable in the climate, a little more myself in how I can dress, and enjoy the outdoors more often.
Fae is playing with her Mem in the next room, talking of kitties. Tonight we’re drinking our annual Black Russian for my Pepere (click to read about it), but mine is white.