A Quiet Morning in the Village
This morning, we woke up to the first real chill of the season. I reached for both a sweater and a jacket before heading out with Winston. As we walked into the village, there was a stillness in the air—just a quiet morning in the village before people began filtering into the narrow street, starting their morning routines and commutes.
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The little gardens here are enchanting. I spotted some of the largest cabbage heads I’ve ever seen. It makes me wonder what sort of pest magic they’re using in these parts, given the amount of insects, worms, and all sorts of little critters that thrive here.
Now that the seasons are changing, I’m realizing I need to gather a few more fall and winter pieces for my “village wardrobe.” Not a lot, just a few items better suited to life here. When we first moved, we stayed in the city for several months, and I loved slipping into the “city wardrobe” vibe—everyone was so well-dressed, and I really enjoyed that. But now, I’m finding myself in need of clothes that can handle the more rustic side of things. Stone floors, dirt roads, the regular toting of firewood—what’s a slightly chic-minded woman to wear in all this? Athleisure isn’t really a thing here, which is a surprise after years in Colorado, where it was my wardrobe’s backbone!
And slippers! I need a good pair I can slip on quickly to step outside and fetch wood, give treats to the neighborhood donkey, or hang out my duvets in the morning. (Who even am I, saying things like that?! Haha.) I’m waiting anxiously on these to arrive.
After cleaning up the kitchen yesterday, I wandered around the garden and noticed a rose bush almost hidden by a rosemary hedge. I trimmed the branches and tucked the blooms into a small pitcher. There’s something deeply satisfying in little things like that.
For now, I’ve been feeling comfortable in this quieter, cocoon-like phase. I don’t have a strong urge to be social or go out much, and honestly, it feels restorative. I wonder if this is my “Quiet Era”? (Are we still doing the era thing? If so, I’m claiming it!) I half-jokingly texted my best friend the other day:
Me: “What is it about this stage of life that makes me just want to be left alone?”
Her: “Wisdom.”
It still makes me laugh.
There’s a man that lives in the village who sleeps on a park bench near the old church. Every single day, like clock work He arrives as soon as the sun hits the bench . He brings a small grocery bag (contents unknown), settles his things by the bench, lays down, and places his hat over his face. And he stays there all day long. He speaks in an old dialect that isn’t in use much any more so I can’t really communicate with him. But when I take my recycling down to the corner, if he sits up, we exchange a greeting if he doesn’t I try to be quiet w/ the recycling.
When I asked around about him, I learned that he has a home and a family who cares about him. Apparently, he likes to stay out late in town on occasion, and I’ll see him the next morning, walking back to his bench ready for another day of serenity on his chosen perch. He seems utterly content, as if he has carved out his life precisely how he wants it.
While I’m not planning to take up residence on a park bench, I think we might be kindred spirits in our shared appreciation for solitude, with only the occasional outing at present. And that thought makes me smile.
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