|A splattered Nicomedes one Christmas morning.|
Not quite sleeping in and getting up at noon, but waking up as the earliest rays trickle into your room; the stillness of a sleeping household; stepping out to feel the cool air and dew drops from hovering trees; taking your time to brew your own beans; the animals awaking and coming over to greet as you check out today’s paper, coffee cup in hand.
This, for me, is the way to start a weekend. I live through my rituals, and slowly easing into the day is one I’ve enjoyed since I was young. And though I prefer not to live in the past, the old house has been in my thoughts lately.