I woke up this morning with the soft rainfall and misty skies beckoning me to stay inside my cozy messy house. When I say messy, I mean messy. Crumpled up papers everywhere (why so must waste? I really should think about this), teacups lazily sitting on the piano, a wool blanket hanging over a very red and very kid-friendly (translation: dirty) sofa, half-eaten apple on my computer desk, and just stuff everywhere imaginable. But it’s home. It’s our home, where my family and I feel comforted and relaxed and able to spend a day together with over-sized t-shirts and warmed conversations over tea and toast. It’s sometimes in these moments, as well, where I fall in love with my husband all over again; his cinnamon eyes, his soft deep voice asking me if I’d like “another cuppa tea”, and his disheveled hair. And then, in this realization, a deer comes into the front garden, nibbles some leaves and my heart swells in complete enchantment.