Home

I came home yesterday to a Welcome Home balloon dancing on my front porch. When I walked through the screen door into my kitchen, I was greeted with the homespun scent of vanilla, my melting pot plugged in and glowing. A note from my parents that said there's a bottle of Chardonnay chilling and a dinner of fresh sushi in the fridge (the wine, hand-picked for its name: The Dreaming Tree). My dad had made sure the giant puffball of mums on my front porch and the plants in my kitchen window box were watered while I was gone. And my mom was adamant that the house smell good after being closed up for two weeks, so the melting pot was plugged in well in advance of my arrival home. (I love how the idea of my house being "closed up" makes me think of coming home to a giant Victorian family estate and ripping canvas dropcloths off of slipcovered chairs and blowing a season's worth of dust off  the mantle; so romantically Maine summer house). And home it was. I couldn't have asked for a sweeter homecoming: to be greeted by Chateau Gahan doing what she does best, hug everyone who enters.

The book that the bottle of wine sets on was a special gift from co-worker Laura. She made it, and it's fantastic and special. The binding technique she used makes each spread lay flat. The covers and spine are in the loveliest shades of ocean blue. I decided that all the writing I do in my head needs to make it to paper, and this book has become the basket where I put all of my words, sentences, stories and chapters.

One of my favorite good-bye gestures to Captain's Cottage (my humble A-frame vacation home) was to fill a page of the guest book. Reading all the entries, it was obvious that a lot of people have fallen in love with this house.