The Nook

The other night at the new house we sat aside the big long table. That's where we congregate now, the big long table in the room which functions as three: the living room, dining room, and kitchen. Oh, and the baking nook; every one's favorite. The nook alone is the size of our tiny kitchen at the Yellow Brick House. Natural light spills through two windows in the nook alone instead of the one in our whole kitchen at the YBH. We've deemed it Mare's Baking Nook. A spot for her Kitchen-Aid and all things sweet. That turquoise mixer makes the space happy (as if the thought of a baking nook alone wouldn't do the trick).

There's a clock on the wall that chimes on the hour. It's soft enough that unless you stop to take note, you won't hear the chime. There's comfort in the tick-tocking; like he's watching over us, taking note of our comings and goings as the minutes and hours go by.

We're getting used to slipping off our shoes as we step in the entry; used to turning the key extra hard on the old wood door; used to wide-plank wood floors to dance about on. I'm not sure we'll ever get used to being so warm, after a year in a house where we slept with beanies, double-down comforters and the thermostat up up up.

I'm trying desperately to get used to driving up the hill at the end of the night. It's just for now, but even so, it's a feeling I'm not too fond of. I'd much rather cozy up by the fire and fall asleep on my ticking-stripe couch beneath the tick-tock of the clock. While change sometimes isn't so sweet, it just takes time. For now, I've got a key to the front door. I plan to be around for a lot of clock chiming and I'll be happy to taste-test anything baked in the nook.