I can practically smell the beans, though still in bed, my husband beside me, buried deep beneath the covers. I smile and wake, picturing my 10-yr-old brewing me a fresh cuppa coffee—that’s my boy.
I love the morning hours.
Filled with that promising light of a new day.
Those early hours used to be all mine—waking between 5 and 5:30.
But my son and my youngest daughter, as she says “wear my genes” and so now, we are three, greeting the sun together.
It’s a sweet time and while I revel in days I get to myself, I love these morning snuggles that I know won’t last.
We often get up quietly and sneak out to let the other two family members be the owls they are—warmly nestled in bed. We walk the loop that has become second nature, heading east for better sunrise views.
I need these quiet moments like I need air—without them, I spin: my mind revs, my body tenses in all the predictable places, I’m not my best self, not even close.
“We need silence…it’s not a luxury, it’s essential,” says acoustic ecologist Gordon Hempton in an interview on the On Being podcast I’m listening to on my morning woods-walk. “We must listen to survive….”
This statement hits hard. I wonder:
Is the pandemic the earth’s way of talking to us? Its way of foisting quiet on us all.
Stay put! It says and—for a time—put aside what is not essential and tune in to what truly is—connect with yourselves. Get yourself right. Mentally. Physically. Emotionally. Pause and listen to those closest to you. Hear your surroundings. Be still and listen to those in your community and even to those who are not. Listen to survive.
At the hōm market, we’ve put a pause on our community classes while Omicron peaks.
It’s sad, because we love having you in our space—our classes and events have been some of the most joyful times of this past year and we are SO grateful for the trust you’ve put in us, in coming in and being together.
We’ll be back at it soon enough. In the meantime, we’ve turned to focus on what we can do:
We’re launching online shopping with our limited edition bronze and brass edit, featuring stunning brutalist candlesticks January 17
Britt has combed the world for breathtaking pieces that light up a space. It’s hard not to buy every single one for ourselves, before we post them online for you. But we will because another giant joy we’ve discovered this year, is when a beautiful object finds its person.
We’ve seen it again and again, when someone comes into the shop and sees something they know is theirs.
Sometimes, and these are my favorite times, a person leaves for days without taking it home, and eventually comes back for it.
I think objects speak in their own way, telling their stories. Patinas and marks of vintage pieces, the indents of a maker’s hands—if we just pause enough to see, to listen and hear.
Until next time, stay cozy at hōm and be sure to carve out the quiet you need—Sandra