Southern Comfort.

In this stage of my life-- where work, travel & transition have continued to take center stage-- it's amazing the wonders that the small details of a long weekend spent at home can do for the soul. The way the breeze seems to blow more sweetly when you're sipping wine on the deck of your favorite vineyard with a view of the gorgeous Blue Ridge Mountains before you; the way that time spent apart simply disappears when you're sitting next to a best friend, bent over a table in the kind of laughter that leaves your stomach in stitches; the way those weekend days seem to linger extra long when afternoons are spent lazing on the back porch drinking mimosas & playing boardgames; and the way those familiar tastes of Easter-- Dad's roasted leg of lamb & Mom's sweet strawberry rhubarb crumble-- instantly bring you back to that feeling of being a 6-year old twirling across the backyard under the warmth of the sun's golden rays, wearing your Easter Sunday best.

It takes time to build a home: time to bring life to new traditions in a new place, and time to find the right people to share those traditions with. And while each day spent in this little neck of the Brooklyn woods brings me a bit closer to having that here, I'm not there quite yet. It is going to take time. And, I believe, it's meant to. And while I journey down that road of discovery, it's a bit of southern comfort knowing that Virginia will always be waiting for me.

xo

(p.s. While I was home, I managed to find some time to sneak on over to Tuckahoe Plantation for a bit. Not surprisingly, those beautiful spring blooms proved too hard to resist. Enjoy!)