the days when nothing happens

 Written yesterday--Sunday, December 9th.

It's one of those days. Sunday afternoon, the house is quiet, the wood-stove is cranked up to mid-heat, and the wind blows around and in every crack and crevice of the house. Outside, the sky is dark with low, grey clouds, the bird feeders in the country and the streets in town are alike--almost empty. The lone bird or two you may see have feathers ruffled from the wind, and a flighty, cheery disposition. 

It isn't exactly a beautiful day; a high of 45* today, and the low is expected to be around 9* tonight. Today is a sweater day if ever any was. I'm wearing my favorite {worn} pair of jeans, a cozy sweat and a pair of red snowmen socks that have been hidden away in my oak dresser for months, along with 4 other holiday pairs of socks.

I think these days are the most precious, sometimes. When our days are full of those sweet nothings--when nothing happens. These days are precious. Nothing wonderful or special happens, but we remember them and hold them most dear because of one simple reason. They're familiar, they're alike, and yet one of a kind. A new day, a new set of numbers, a new time, new experiences.

I think the days when "nothing" happens are the ones we remember the longest and treasure the most.

Have a lovely day, friends! :)
xo,
mikailah