the first week of february has given way to the second and, as it always does, the snow has come. the people i know speak of -- remember -- january as deep winter, but year in and year out, i remember differently. i'm coming on seven years in new york, and hardly a birthweek of mine has passed without the hush of snow falling over new york. and so it is this year, as well.
it is february in the year two thousand seventeen and the world feels prickly and most everyone i know is ever so tightly wound. daily, i seek ways to make life inside these four walls -- our home, my kingdom -- a bit softer. this week, answers have been found in: the $5 bag of cedar & sage epsom salts. roasting root vegetables. penning valentines to friends. stashing my phone far from the nightstand before bed. hearth bread smothered in salted butter and sweet berry jam. planning a surprise date with husband for saturday afternoon. cradling the dusty pink roses my oldest friend in the world sent to my doorstep from a thousand miles away.
it's written on my heart that, in february, there is snow, and when there's snow, there's nowhere to be but home.