My Home

Be it ever so humble there is really no place like home.

After a long day at the office turning toward the home strech I know I'm home when I see the boulder at the end of the street. Then when I open the door and smell the warm air inside... it smells of clean laundry, and whatever candle that I currently love that the bastards at Yankee Candle haven't discontiued yet... sorry, I digress... These days, it is vanilla and mint.

Or reading the paper on a quiet Sunday morning, fire glowing in the fireplace.
Or cooking in the kitchen, preparing for family or friends to visit.
Or setting up the Christmas decorations.
Or completing the deep spring or fall clean.
Or daydreaming of the courtyard redo.

I am so thankful for the quiet, calming cozy townhouse I call home.