Reclaiming

Mary watching Albert

Night shifts make the cottage feel unloved, cold and miserable
I find I have to reclaim it back, so to speak after I finally get out of bed with the dogs and Albert in tow.
After walks and the extravagance of buying two bunches of spring flowers ( one bunch for the kitchen and one for the living room)
I reclaim my home
The fire is lit first as the cottage's 18 inch walls take an age to air against the damp cold of winter's nights and the flowers are illuminated by the glow of the standard lamps hidden away in green corners
The cushions are returned to the kitchen reading chairs as Winnie moves her heavy botty onto the sofa for the duration.
Supper is warming in the oven and the scent of beef hash mingles with the smell of wood smoke and the wiff of linen from the  gift candles that I saved from Christmas.
The dogs are fed and settle down in untidy clumps and the dishes from the last four days of snatched tea times are washed and stacked and then put away.
My Sitges lamp warms my art wall in gold

The washing machine whirls quietly behind music picked just for me from Spotify
Its warmer and I can now take off my fleece
and my new bobble hat.

I am home