Autumn is coming, and there's nothing like spices filling the air in the kitchen while baking or cooking.
The pot in which I brew my tea
is dented and more than a bit tarnished,
But I still enjoy the tea.
The house I live in
needs a coat of paint and several shingles,
But I sleep well at night.
The body I use to live my life
is wrinkled and slowing down,
But I am alive and I rejoice.
I am not the body in which I live,
I am the life itself.
Oh Yes, I like white pumpkins,
but the orange ones make my heart sing.
I've always loved lanterns.
Not sure how I will decorate this for Autumn.
Home is the one place in all this world where hearts are sure of each other. It is the place of confidence. It is the place where we tear off that mask of guarded and suspicious coldness which the world forces us to wear in self-defense, and where we pour out the unreserved communications of full and confiding hearts. It is the spot where expressions of tenderness gush out without any sensation of awkwardness and without any dread of ridicule.
~Frederick W. Robertson
I love home....
especially when little hands are here