Wishing You A Nourishing Peaceful Place

The road leading to the Inn is tree-covered dark and winding.  A stream appears and vanishes only to grow bigger each time it’s visible once again. There’s something about arriving at the Inn that reminds me of the fantasy I used to have about driving to a Victorian house at the end of a road and being a welcomed stranger.

Not unlike the horror stories where the guests are invited to spend a night or two, not knowing exactly what to expect.

But if the Inn where Jon and I stay is haunted, it’s not in a bad way. And since we’ve been going there for years, we’re only strangers when the staff changes. But we know the building and it seems to know us.  There’s comfort in the narrow stairs and small slow elevator. And it helps that the food is dependably delicious.

Jon and I have been going to the Inn for over ten years.  It was the first get-a-way we had, the place we went to after we got married.  One of the constants in our life together.

So it makes sense that we’d find comfort there during the holidays.  The holidays, which often send me into a panic just by their existence.

We’re leaving in a little while, the animals and farm well cared for by our housesitter, makes it even easier.  And as much as I like going, and really want to get away, when it’s time to come home, I’ll be happy to be back.

I know the New Year is a week away, but to me, Christmas feels like the end of the year. And the week after, one to ease into what comes next.

Yesterday I laid out the prints that Emily and I made months ago, on my studio floor at the base of a makeshift altar.  That’s where I’ll start on Monday.  Finding the gems in those prints and cutting them out. Then… who knows.

But that’s days from now.

I’m going to try and stay in the moment at least for the rest of the day.  To just enjoy being with Jon in our special place together.

And I wish all of you the same.  To be able to spend the holiday with the people you choose, in a nourishing, peaceful place.