Sometimes it’s the little things that make a place feel like home. 🙂
I love that there are beautiful flowers everywhere; every colour and shade of rose, wild poppies, foxgloves, and an assortment of other flashy contenders. I love the old Victorian train station, the creek that meanders through town, the brightly coloured canal boats, the clock tower. I love the old slated rooftops and the thatched roofs of some of the old pubs. I love watching the honeybees and discovering unfamiliar fowl. I even like the threadbare old buildings and sheds that are reminiscent of the last, drunken straggler leaving the pub; barely standing.
I love the sweet aroma of lilacs tangled with other fragrant blooms. I love the perfume of clean laundry hung out to dry, and of wood burning in the evenings. I love all the savoury smells; curries, kebabs, roasts, chips. I love the dewy smell after a rain, and the salty, beachy smell of the ocean.
I love the taste of a perfect cup of Earl Grey and an assortment of other delightful teas. I love the crunch of a great vinegar chip. I love the cosy food-coma of a roast dinner, and the heaven that is using herbs from the garden. I love the sweet, tangy burst of flavour that is tikka masala, and the variety of velvety, creamy cheeses. I love the punch of divine, in-season strawberries, and the freshness of all the locally grown harvests.
I love rocking lazily back and fourth on our backyard hammock, drinking in the hot sun when it comes to call. I love digging in the dirt; sitting in the rough grass, pulling weeds. I love the mist of the garden hose on a hot day and the cool night air that sends me off to sleep. I love a hot drink to warm my hands on those crisp, chilly days, and a warm body to snuggle up to at night.
I love hearing the distant chug of the train on metal tracks. I love the chime of the church bells every hour. I love the choir of birds I wake up to each morning; the nearly-constant soft whirring of doves. I love the rich variety of accents and phrases I hear everyday. I love the sound of the kettle boiling. I love the sound of ice cream truck music. And best of all, I love the sound of my man’s keys in the door and his voice saying he’s home. 🙂