Good morning, Rural Sprout readers, Grab a cup of hot leaf or bean juice and curl up in your favorite comfy spot with me. Let’s sit a spell and enjoy
each others’ company. The week with all of its responsibilities will rush in soon, so let’s spend a few minutes hiding from it. I have big news to share with
you. You will be happy to know that on November 9th, I finally turned the heat on. But only in the front room to keep my plants happy. Yup, I woke up and asked the digital roommate, Alexa, what the weather would be like for the day. She informed me it was currently 27
degrees outside. Of course, I prepared by putting flannel sheets on the bed several days prior. I’m one of those weirdos that sleep with the heat off in my bedroom and the window cracked at night in the winter. Perhaps it comes from growing up with a mother who could tell when my fingers touched the thermostat no matter where she was in the house. “Don’t touch that thermostat! Put a sweater on!” Maybe it comes from
living in a cabin that relied on my dad waking up in the middle of the night to put wood on the fire. Or, as so often happened, waking up to a cold cabin because dad slept soundly through the night and the fire had gone out. For whatever reason, I sleep best in a cold bedroom - flannel sheets, a heavy down comforter, wool socks, and I’m good to go. But yes, we’ve reached the point in the year where it’s time to turn on the heat. And with
that comes an unexpected delight – the sound of the soft rattle and tick of pipes as the steam moves through them and the comforting smell of the heat that comes off the radiators. The scent is a bit like nuzzling cat fur; warm, dusty sunshine, only with the added tang of old metal. Turning the heat on has me thinking it might be time to get out the Christmas decorations. At the very least, it’s time to get out the Christmas mugs. Each year I look forward to
walking into the kitchen in the morning and seeing those cheery mugs hanging from hooks beneath my cupboards. Then in late January, they all get packed up and put away until next year. Once,
I lamented the need to put them away, and someone suggested I keep them out. But no, that won’t do. The delight disappears if you do that. We live in a world where anticipation is a lost art. You can have everything you want instantly or pretty
close. We’ve forgotten what it’s like to wait for something. Sure, I could leave my Christmas mugs out all year. But then they would be ordinary, part of the landscape of my kitchen. My misfit collection of thrifted mugs would lose all their magic and nostalgia. With each passing year, I realize it’s these tiny things that bring the most joy. So often, it’s the wanting, not the having,
that’s the best part. In a world where you can order just about anything from Amazon and have it on your doorstep two days later, I encourage you to seek tiny joys, the kind you have to wait for—slipping into flannel sheets in a cold room, the dusty scent of a warm radiator, sipping coffee from a mug with Santa and his reindeer stuck in downtown traffic on it. Happy Sunday, my friends. Did you miss a newsletter or want to go back and read a few for inspiration? Click this link which takes you to our newsletter archives. And don't forget to check out our Facebook page. That's all for this week, Rural Sprout Readers.
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