Thursday, 17 March 2011


Habitude... isn't that a lovely word? Perhaps I should have called my blog by that name (along with about forty other options I had!). It means a habit or tendency, but I think invokes the words habitat and habitable too. I like that for me it expresses two meanings that so much define my life. To inhabit: to be in the home, the place where my heart and my family (often one and the same thing) live. And habit: to repeat patterns in life, the beautifully mundane, the little moments of custom and routine. Some people have wanderlust, where they need to keep moving to see the world. I need to stand still as the world wanders about me; for my home to frame the seasons, to see the murmered growing up of my family. Some people like to collect different snapshots of an ever-growing collection of places. I like the movie you see when you stay in one place and let each page of life flick over like an old animated flip book.

PS The picture was what remained of some roses a dear friend gave me. They almost looked lovelier like this than when gathered on a flowerhead. I watched them fade and brown but still smell delicious, and the process reminded me of the anti-wanderlust I feel.

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