June 30, 2010

Have you ever walked into a house and felt right at home? Last year we stayed in this great little place in one of the white villages in Andalusia and as soon as we walked through the bright green door, I felt at peace. I loved the interior, the big wooden table worn soft over the years, the bright yellow walls, the tiled floors, and hidden nooks and crannies. There is so much to be said for being surrounded by things that have been loved so much that their surfaces feel like a baby's butt and their color is worn where the traffic has been the heaviest. I always find myself drifting off when I spot something older than me, wondering who sat in this chair and what were they doing, what doughs were kneaded on this table, and what has this cabinet seen? The white villages in southern Spain take you back in time to a place where cell phones were non-existent and neighbors were vital, where slow food and chit-chat on the street was of the essence...

Happy Wednesday.

No comments: