The Return
8 weeks here and still I am treading the waters of all that feels unknown. I know the names of only 4 streets—they are the ones that lead me back to home. I forget the names of the faces of neighbors that appeared in that first week. And there are the birds and the trees and the native grasses I've yet to identify. In the midst of all of this newness I've struggled to hold on to what is familiar. But what remains constant: food, wine, and words.
This space, SOMMERSALT, is meant to be a space to house the simple, storied beauty that is life. It's for the small and bright ways in which I find pleasure.
Of course, this is not the first time I've tried to return to blogging. Over the past few years I've started and stopped, usually when it begins to feel forced and unnatural. But right now, there is nothing forced or unnatural about a return to a devotion of my essentials for being.
I believe in simplicity and beauty. I believe in the holiness of dark and the illuminating fullness of light. I believe in the healing power of mountain views, a properly made bed, and homemade bread. I believe in the necessity of expression in whatever medium feels most natural. And I believe that the most honest of conversations happen over a bottle of wine shared in the glow of a warm fire.
Let this space be that fire.
