With Halloween just around the corner, I thought it time to introduce you to the many little monsters of La Chouette, The owls, of course, are excactly what they seem
Inside, in the kitchen, the morning coffee is watched over by my favourite Gorgon, Medusa. A whole line of her in fact, so she won’t get lonely or overpowered by some brat on a winged horse.
My sofadragons you have met before, here they are basking in the morning sun.
Or candle light, same difference. In the corner, you can get a glimpse of the fellow here, Pan himself reciding over the fruit bowl.
And underneath the library, on the opposite wall, is my drinks cabinet, protected by other happy little forrest creatures.
So cheers to a happy Hallowween from the house of tiny monsters!
I have found that I spend most of my time, when the weather allows, on the porch. That is, the small step that serves as a porch. Not inside, not outdoors. This place holds something special for me. I don’t suppose I’m alone in preferring these places, but one so rarely hears anything written about the importance of the exisistence of such spots. At one’s home and in society. The places in between, the places that are the threshold. Not just a thin line between this and that, but a place in itself. Most of the things I like, only exists in these spaces. I think one of the most important things for me in my new life is to make this inbetweenworld larger, more spacious, create a room that is in itself inbetween and by this, make more room for the things inbetween in the world of ideas and creatures.
I have now lived in my house, full time, for a whole week. So far it’s perfectly fine, but there are several little daily things that makes up not exactly problems, but tiny itches. Such as, where do I place the coffee kettle after I’ve filled it and while I light the alcohol stove? Do I take my shoes of before I go in or indoors? Because keeping your shoes on is seriously not an option. Where do I place the last step on my ladder down from the alcove without blocking the window and also, how do I get the window to close fully while keeping the bookshelves intact, etc.
I don’t have water or electricity, so every daily activity, from washing in the morning to brushing my teeth and doing the dishes is a tiny little adventure (I suppose this is where the ‘tiny living’ tag comes from). In the morning, I light the fireplace and have a pot of water placed on it for warm water during the day. I take care to wash all the dishes directly after use, and if I’m boiling an egg for breakfast, I’ll use the hot water from that to wash my coffee cup. And such.
Part of my kitchen in its orderly jumble
Considering this, I have chosen wood for my cutlery and dishes, both for their light weight, the fact that they won’t break during driving, that they’re antibacterial and easy to clean and with the added bonus of the sound. No more sharp clacking or scraping during those tender morning hours, but the warm whisper of larch.
Every day there are new things to adjust and to adjust to, I’m still settling in. Probably, living like this will affect both my body and psyche in new and interesting ways yet to be seen.
Inside, in the kitchen, the morning coffee is watched over by my favourite Gorgon, Medusa. A whole line of her in fact, so she won’t get lonely or overpowered by some brat on a winged horse.
tinyowl 