There is a distinct ebb and flow in city life and I have settled into the rhythm with gentle ease. Traffic pulses past like a heartbeat forcing the flow and the air is alive with the sounds of automobiles on their way to destinations unknown.
Standing on the sidewalk bundled up in my hand knit wools I lean into the wind feeling its crisp kiss upon my face and breathe deeply of the vitality that surrounds me. I can't help but smile as I open my eyes and continue to walk casually along the city sidewalk, taking in the sights and sounds of my new dwelling place. Home is the word that wraps its arms around me and fills me with warmth. Home.
My little neighborhood is filled with wonders and I love exploring it every chance I get. My most favorite spot is a quaint little coffee house on Leonard street called the Story Cafe. It is warm and friendly with wonderful coffees, sweet treats, and homemade soups full of natures goodness. I come and sit at the shop sipping on cafe au laits, writing blog posts, knitting, or just conversing with friends. It too is Home to me, it is frequented by people I have come to know and love and just walking through their door sets my heart at ease, as if coming home from a long journey, it is the place where I can simply be at rest.
There are so many things that speak of home in my life. Knitting is another one of those things. Wherever I go I always have some sticks and string with me. If grown people could have security blankets I guess mine would be made of wool. I love the hand and texture of natural fibers. The soft fluffy smooshiness of a handspun or soft spun yarn as it flits through my fingers, my knitting sticks clicketty clacking as I create one stitch after another. Its a rhythm I know so well. It speaks of softness and quiet, of peace in the center of the city as if I am standing still while the elements of the world swirl around me in a constant whir of hurry. I am at rest wrapped in the rhythm of life.