In the quiet of my house, the words for what I want to share come naturally. They wait, ever so patiently, at the threshold between my mind and reality, the moment when they can spill from my fingertips to the keyboard. But I’m not in the quiet of my house at the moment. I’m in a half-crowded cafe in D.C., and while the noise isn’t unbearable, it’s the background chitter chatter that makes writing feel too disjointed. Oh, and the fact the the top of my tea pot just dropped into my mug, splashing dots of chai all over the table, well, yeah, that didn’t help. Speaking of the chai, the one they serve at Tryst is a good substitute when I’m not making it at home (recipe is in the new issue of City Girl. Country Kitchen).
See what I’m talking about…such lack of focus when I work in cafes or coffeeshops. I applaud people who do this on a daily basis. I much prefer the peace of my house upstate. I felt more productive this past weekend than I’ve felt in a while. Last fall, a renter from Airbnb left me the kindest note, and commented that my house had wonderful energy. He and his girlfriend felt it from the moment they walked in. I knew exactly what he meant. I feel it every time I’m there. Even in the loneliest of moments, usually at night, when darkness falls all around, leaving you feeling isolated from the world, I know what joy daybreak brings. Continue reading »