Now we live "on the seacoast." We drive past strawberry fields to get to the beach. We have two rivers within walking distance from our home, plenty of trails, and a charming community. We fling open the windows as soon as we can and soak in all the warm days. This place is easy to love in the summertime. Honestly, I have nothing to complain about.
But in New England if there is one thing you can count on it's that winter is coming. Winter is always our longest season, so if there's one season you want to do well it's winter. The Little Cottage on the Souhegan did winter well.
Then I stumbled across hygge.
I enjoy the description of hygge shared here. Really, just reading about it makes me feel all warm and fuzzy inside.
The other night I cuddled up under a quilt with my little boy who is a bit under the weather. We sat quietly and watched the (fake) flames dance in the faux wood stove. It made me miss the real stove at The Cottage. Then he started describing what he liked about the flames in a surprisingly poetic way for a six year old. Hearing him articulate what he liked about the shapes and colors and movements of the flames took my mind off what once was and held me right there in the moment. That's hygge.
I'm thankful for this strange little word I found. I am thankful for the reminder that it's not only physical elements (and maybe river views and wood stoves) that can bring about this sense of welcome and comfort to a home, but a combination of the right elements strung together and shared at the right times with the right people.