Away, back

Another weekend away, another case of "this could be every day".

Tending the stove, feeling the heat spread in the house. Temperature gently rising and falling like a heartbeat measuring indoor activity.

Walks. Through dripping woods and resting fields. Through the great silence of winter countryside. Stopping, breathing, taking in the scenery.

Carrying firewood from the stack behind the shed. Cooking with homegrown vegetables, not even seeing bread which was not baked in the same room.

Now I am back. Dragged and dropped, or perhaps simply swiped, into my centrally heated apartment. Where the sounds of neighbors, trams and trafffic are ever-present if I tune my ears to listen for them.

Sure, it is good to be home. But what was so important about living in a city again?

Add to that house in the woods another room, or why not another shed in a corner, where I could go to podcast and work.

Happy as a clam, I could be.