I knew it was coming.  Day after day I paused with anticipation before turning the key and opening the post box.  Then, finally, it was there.  
The envelope was sturdy and the address written in a unique hand.  I did not open it right away, but waited until I had settled down from the long work day.  Then, with a cup of tea and a calm mind, I opened the envelope.
It is rare to receive nice mail, rare to receive a beautiful handmade thing.  My favorite kind of gift is the one received on a random Thursday for no reason other than to make a connection and give delight.  The paper is thick and velvety, the construction clever, the images deep and quiet.  What a pleasure, what a privilege.  Thank you, Ordinary Images.

I knew it was coming.  Day after day I paused with anticipation before turning the key and opening the post box.  Then, finally, it was there.  

The envelope was sturdy and the address written in a unique hand.  I did not open it right away, but waited until I had settled down from the long work day.  Then, with a cup of tea and a calm mind, I opened the envelope.

It is rare to receive nice mail, rare to receive a beautiful handmade thing.  My favorite kind of gift is the one received on a random Thursday for no reason other than to make a connection and give delight.  The paper is thick and velvety, the construction clever, the images deep and quiet.  What a pleasure, what a privilege.  Thank you, Ordinary Images.

"If we were taught to cook as we were taught to walk, encouraged first to feel for pebbles with our toes, then to wobble forward and fall, then had our hands firmly tugged on so we would try again, we would learn that being good at it relies on something deeply rooted, akin to walking, to get good at which we need only guidance, senses, and a little faith."
– Tamar Adler, An Everlasting Meal