As sporadic warm days grace these months, I am beginning to reflect on the miracle of living so happily with so little this winter.
The entryway leads into the kitchen. The cabinets were made by Tristan’s father.
This bench was made for Julia’s father. Tristan’s father made this table.
Most people ask, “how do you shower?”
The living area open up to the left of the kitchen. My closet fits remarkably underneath the stairs.
A photograph of my grandfather on the way.
I got the sun sarong in 2007 when I was studying in Costa Rica. A bit ironic that it is still my sun in the depths of Vermont’s winter.
The wood stove and a dress from Russia I bought at a thrift-store in Rutland.
The upstairs loft.