Hobbit hole ramblings

"Whatever a house is to the heart and body of a man – refuge, comfort, and luxury – surely it is as much or more to the spirit." ~ Mary Oliver, from "Building the House" Photo taken during the Outdoor Sculpture at Maudslay event. 

Every fall there is an art exhibit at our favorite local park. Walking through familiar spaces while inundated with creativity, new art forms which create new landscapes, is a treat. The kids and I spent some time there on Monday with our nature adventure group, and the exhibits this year blew me away with their attention to detail, play, and connection.

The above picture was taken of the inside of a little shack, filled with poetry and decorated with clam shells and driftwood. A friend we've known for years came up to me and asked if I wanted a picture of me and the kids in it, "If I were to guess you made any of these exhibits, this would be the one," she laughed.

This summer our road has gotten louder. It's a fairly busy street, but there have been several building projects in the works, and where there was space for noise to travel and dissipate... there is now an echo chamber. Sounds of cars and motorcycles and boat engines from the nearby river all bounce not only in and around our walls, but off of house after house, new build after new build, and the spaces where I've been able to find quiet are no longer.

I've been daydreaming of a house surrounded by woods where I have to make a conscious effort to see people. Of open spaces and trees and quiet. Of privacy. Maybe of seashell covered shingles...

The louder the world feels, the more the world is invited into our homes via all this wonderful technology, the more I want to pull away and find a hobbit hole and focus on second breakfast and cozy nooks and crannies and home.

Perhaps it's the seasonal change. The draw to go inward and curl into oneself a bit.

Michelle put it well in her recent post when she wrote:

"The hours of daylight get shorter and I love that (so much). I know most people don’t feel the same (don’t hold it against me; let’s still be friends). For me, things just feel quieter and softer. Moving into the colder months seems to reflect my introverted nature, I suppose. What can I say? It suits me."

It suits me as well.

I'm hoping that once the storm windows shut and the air cools and the motorcycles are put away for the winter, our home will feel less like an assault on the senses, and more like home again to me. I want to hear the sound of my own thought. And maybe, just maybe, with the return to the quiet seasons and a feeling of reset, I'll be able to recreate a bit of what was in that simple wooden, poetry filled shack in our own home and carry it through the noise of the following seasons...


Before I sign off for the week, take some time and read the Mary Oliver essay I linked to under the photo, I'm still digesting and need to reread again... but I'm finding myself drawn to Oliver's words often, and the little house full of poetry felt serendipitous and ever so sweet...


  1. I am surrounded by woods but live within a mile of a highway so when the wind blows a certain way I can hear it (but it's like white noise). I love how quiet my home can be. I love when the days get darker and I get that cosy feeling - ack! I want to do all the knitting that I can possibly do.


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