sunday

I leave before everyone wakes with a wicker basket in tow. The local Farmers Market is alive and bustling early and I select our weekly nourishment from heaving tables.  Yesterday there were new season apples and tiny Cole pears, just right for little hands and mouths. And cavelo nero, baby carrots and fresh borlotti beans for a warming soup.  When my basket can hold no more I return home as the house is stirring with coffee and warm croissants. It is warm and sleepy inside and as I feed Ines  the babies unpack my basket like pirates unearthing golden treasure. There is much sampling and commentary and questions. Stock will be made later with last week's lack lustre remnants.  Leftover fruit will be stewed gently with a little water and maple syrup and a cinnamon stick.

Sunday is sheet washing day.   Sometimes there is a blanket tent erected, sometimes not but always there is rough housing,  jumping on bare beds and shrieks of laughter as bellies are tickled.  As the sun warms the back deck, pillows are lined up like soldiers to bask in its rays. This simple practice kills germs and dust mite and brings a certain freshness to a newly made bed that only the sun can do. The garden will be perused and Darren and I make plans of this and that. I might sand back the wooden painted high chair for a time and he might push them on the swings. We stay close to each other and let the gentle day unfurl.

As the light changes and the cool afternoon wind brings us inside I begin my Sunday potter. There is no real urgency nor list of to dos rather a gentle wander from room to room setting things right for the week ahead; a study in mindfulness and gratitude for my home that sets the tone for a calm week. Jam jars of flowers dotted about the house  receive fresh water and pot plants given some attention. Books are re-shelved and surfaces cleared whilst rose otto and sandalwood oils imbue the air with uplifting notes, their aromas bringing harmony and grounding after the week's push and pull.  There's a row or two of knitting, maybe a board game and many cups of tea.

We bath the babies early and settle in for the evening with soup and crusty bread for dinner.  I smile as I look across the table at the clean and shiny little people in flannelette pjs. It's been a day without rush, without demands. A day of nourishment and rest. Sunday - It's a good day.