Signs of autumn are everywhere. Outside, the sun is setting earlier, and the light is shifting gradually to a deeper golden yellow. Inside, treasured autumn collections are appearing here and there. I wouldn’t be a designer if I didn’t care about the details. Every corner of our home must reflect a love, a connection to our deepest joys and most personal refinements. Nothing is forgotten. No object collects dust.
In the coming weeks we’ll wash all the windows of our home, inside and out. The hot wind-blown dust of farmland and orchard makes this a twice-yearly necessity. The results make my heart sing. There’s a school of thought on household chores, in that they are chores – mundane tasks that need doing, divorced from inherent, qualifying values. I’ve learned to disagree. I try not to use the word ‘chore’ in reference to caring for our home. Words are laden with meaning, afterall. To clean is to refine. To care for the things that belong to you is a form of self-honor. Afterall, you acquired these things very often with the sweat of your brow, and hard-won dignity of your labor. I see care of one’s things as a reflection of character. I’m sure this hearkens to ‘Puritanical roots,’ as the culture loves to say, and I’m okay with that. I’m a huge fan of organizing principles, be they for life, writing books, making dinner, or vacuuming under the bed. If the mundane things don’t get done with some measure of joy and dedication, what’s the likelihood the great things will?
Autumn’s arrival has sparked interest in new crochet projects. I imagine it will be something scarf-like. Also, older fall projects will be taken up again, and this is exciting. (A sure-fire way of rekindling fizzled desires is to put the thing away for a while, then rediscover it.)
‘Till next time.