Hygge

Tonight I sat in the most hyggelit space I've ever seen. An old farmhouse, a scholar's home library, full of books and art. A piano at one end of the room. Deep windows with thick cushions. Nestled in chairs and perched on stools and snuggled in sofas, maybe 30 people listening to a Christmas story being read aloud. An unadorned cedar branch lay across the mantel, and below, a fire crackled. Before the fire was a rug, and on the rug lay a kitten, stretched out and sound asleep.

We read The Gifts of the Child Christ, by George MacDonald (click the link to read it online). 

I was sitting at my friend's feet, and she played with my hair while we listened. Someone I didn't know sat down beside me, and squished up against me in the crush, and it made me feel cozy and welcome. Conversation afterwards was warm and lively, and there were clementines and meatballs and ginger cookies and tea.

I've always loved curling up cozy at Christmas and reading. One of my favourite regular gifts was a stack of books from the secondhand store and a tin of flavoured popcorn. After presents were opened, I'd curl up and read until Christmas dinner (and I'd be too full from the popcorn to appreciate that properly), and then read all through boxing day.

The coziness of reading, but with other people who also love it, is a treat I haven't enjoyed for a very long time. Food for soul and body and mind, warmth and comfort and the soft silken fur of a sleeping kitten. 

Oh my friends, I wish you all this kind of peace this Christmas.

Xo.