A Sense of Place

What is the best thing about the place you are right now? If you were to take a snapshot of this moment what would you like to save in your memory? For me, it would be the sense of coziness I feel from being inside on this cold, wet day. Most of my life is one big scamper, running from place to place meeting with people. I love doing it, but after running around in the rain all day yesterday, it’s wonderful to sit quietly in my own space, hearing the birdsong outside the window and the classical music on the radio, wearing casual clothes. I’ve already been out and about this morning for a meeting. I have more later in the day, but the next few hours are mine to be in one place. It is the time I use to bond with my surroundings and be glad that I can be still and think.
We all need a space that is our thinking place. Mine is in my living room. I have an old house that snuggles around me when I have time to light for a little while. I bought this house when my husband (now my ex-husband) was out of town. Buying the house has nothing to do with exing. It was a different issue entirely, but that’s another story in another lifetime.
When I walked into this house it said to me “Where have you been all this time?”.
We were looking at the house across s the street that did not speak to me in the same way. The people living in the house were moving and had three people lined up to look at the house. Fortunately, I was the first. I bought it on the spot. Old houses were not as expensive in those days before they got trendy. My husband of the era was fine with it. My parents were aghast. They had grown up in old houses and were thrilled with their cozy cottage. My daddy said “Why on earth would you want an old house? They are cold and drafty.” My mother remembered everybody having to huddle around the fireplace to stay warm in the front, while the backside was still cold.
They could not understand because they were not antique collectors. They didn’t like antiques for the same reason that they didn’t like old houses; they were part of the post WWII generation that wanted everything modern. No old stuff for them, thank you very much! I had already been collecting antiques for a while. When we moved in this house, I had bought a grand piano that I had no place to put. The people were keeping it for me until I found a place for it. This house was that place. I say was, because although I am still in the house, the piano is long gone. Like every mother, I had high hopes for my children and culture. Neither of them would take piano lessons. I gave up on culture and the grand piano about the same time. I sold the piano and kept the uncultured children, who both, incidentally, at one time or another have said to me that they wish they had taken piano lessons. I say uncultured tongue in cheek because both of my children began to exhibit cultural tendencies later in life. Both have an appreciation for art, music, history, and literature. They have both been to museums and concerts. My daughter is a world traveler and my son is a history major. He and I had a conversation once about travel. I asked him if he could go anywhere in the world where he would like it to be. Of all things, he said “Versailles” and he pronounced it right. Since my children were both raised in rural southwest Alabama and turned out to exhibit cultural tendencies, I am pleased.
I certainly do not apologize for being in rural Alabama. It has a great feeling to me. It has a sense of place that I wish I could share with you. Those of you from here who are reading this in some other part of the world will know what I mean. We may have a cold wet day today, but tomorrow will be beautiful. It may be 18 degrees tonight, but it won’t last long.
Even on this cold wet day, I can look out the windows and see the beauty of the bleak landscape. There are a lot of evergreen shrubs around the yard and the bare trees have a purplish hue against the grey. I have 5 big windows in my living room that I keep uncovered so I can enjoy the outdoors, as well as two in the dining room. I have tried at various times to curtain them. I have even brought home nice silk drapes on occasion to try. I just can’t do it. Bringing the outdoors inside is part of my sense of place. I have a wonderful scented candle to perfume the air and music wafting about me.
After Christmas, I found a gilded JOY with a place for a votive candle in front on a platform. It sounds tacky, but I am enjoying it as a reminder that JOY is the most important thing to focus on. Liking where you are is putting you halfway there in finding
JOY in your sense of place.