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Happy Merry!

 

Happy Christmas! If I had my druthers, I’d be spending Christmas someplace like this. I love the pile of firewood. I love the sense of snow on the ground. I envision myself snuggled up in flannels and long-johns and faux fur-lined boots, sipping a warm mug of cider and gazing out at the mountainous woods.

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How We Revel:
Kitchen Gardens

 

I have a recurring dream. Always I am in the kitchen of the home that I live in with  my family in my dreams. This is the home where our children will grow into adulthood, and we will live out our old age. In my dream, there are French doors, thrown open to the Southern California day. Outside, it’s blue skies and radiant sunshine, but that isn’t what calls to me through our flung-open doors. Instead, I am drawn to the patch of green that winks at me through the open top-half of our kitchen’s Dutch door: the kitchen garden I’ve nurtured from seedlings and seed. 

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