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a love letter

A blanket of snow has begun to fall.  
A good, sweet snow that comes quietly.
It is on days such as this, that I fall more deeply in love with this cabin.
With all her faults and crooked joints, she holds us safely in her embrace.
Scented with wood smoke and cinnamon, she glows warm and we watch the snow swirl around us.
This is the house that taught me to love Winter.
This is the house that taught me a lot of things.
Yes, it’s true, our cabin is for sale.
We have dreams of personal growth and lots of stretching ahead.
We’re choosing another adventure.
But today, I want to talk about our cabin.
And the stretching and growing and adventuring that has been done here.
It is here that we began to believe in ourselves.
It is here that we became more comfortable in our flawed skin and bones.
It is here that we foraged for berries and made jams and jellies so that we might eat sunshine in the winter.
It is here that we built our own furniture that will last for generations.
It is here that we burnt sage and released our fears of the unknown and untested.
It is here that we raised and butchered our own chickens with love and bare hands.
It is here that we sat beneath the cedars and pines, laughing with friends and family.
It is here that I was brought to my knees with morning sickness and motherhood.
It is here that I learned I am tougher and grittier than I gave myself credit for.
It is here that we realized our dreams and found out what we’re capable of.
It is bittersweet.
This house will always hold a bit of heart and soul with it.
All good homes do.
Much like country life and country folk, country real estate is slow and pretty straight forward.
So we wait.
We sit by the wood stove.
We chop wood.
We read our books.
We homeschool.
We crochet and play ukulele.
We make snow angels and snow people.
We make soup and pie from scratch.
We let the bread dough rise by the fire.
We keep a few chickens and wait for the first egg of the year.
We traipse through the woods when the mood strikes.
We watch the snow fall and dream about the wildflowers
The poppies.
The lilacs.
The peonies
The blackberries.
The apples.
The chokecherries.
The raspberries.
The blueberries.
We dream about all the beauty and fragrance that will dance around our house once again when spring returns.
We dream about afternoons and evenings spent at the beach when the tourists rush back to the city.
We wait.
We wait.
But the wait really isn’t all that bad.
go gently + be wonderful
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