Where the Hearth Is

 

My blog posts are usually about food. 

I enjoyed reading this book. I heard the author speak about her book at the Hay Festival last year and I decided to read it. It is a fascinating book which explores the meaning of home for different people. 

Home means so many different things.

My home is a tiny two up two down in London. It means a lot to me because it is my bolt hole from a demanding job and a noisy world. My home is home because of family, although I only live with one family member, my many relatives know that my home is always their home.

Home means space, peace and a place where I can be me. It is a place of creativity, of reading, of writing, of reflecting, of cooking, of baking and of attempts at gardening.

The best times in my home are the early dawn mornings when the geese in the nearby nature reserve call out to each other, and the magpies fight for water from the gutters on the building next door. Sometimes they are joined by the local flock of parakeets who moved into the neighbourhood some years ago, and every now and again this cacophony of noise is joined by the screeching of foxes. 

I lie there at dawn feeling warm, safe and content, as I listen to the natural world in the middle of one of the busiest cities in the world. 

I listen and I am grateful because I am home.

A beautiful book which enabled me to reflect and be thankful.