Take me to the River @St Marks, FL

 Home is elemental (a piece in progress, here are some preliminary, rough sketches:)  

A year following the worst (three-tornado) storm that Tallahassee has ever seen, I have thoughts circulating about a topic that speaks to everyone--What is HOME?

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For two decades or more this topic has lingered in my heart (tho in some ways it has always been there, has its very genesis in life as a small child). It was the nexus of the study of women's travel letters that made it's way to the doorstep of my mind's eye in the early 2000s. And I must say, with no doubt, the "Home" that I wanted to explore wasn't the rosy red-cheeked children-scape at the dinner table of Rockwell (whose paintings I love). ******
The week I defended my thesis on the subject of Home at the University of Virginia in 2005 was the same week that Katrina blew in and devasted so many homes on the grittiest level of materiality. And I felt then as if I was almost doing something wrong--considering home as an interior, even abstract concept. Yet now I believe that is one way that people survive hardship within their personal realms of domesticity. ******
Similarly, when I saw that a tree had tipped over and plunged down into the neighbor's home last year I started having so many ideas about the elements and their power over home and notions of home. In a moment wind or water can disrupt everything that makes a place feel like a home. ******
And yet the homeliest (I am purposefully giving a positive sense to this term) aspects of home ARE elemental: The flame under the sautee pan, the warmth of bedsheets that have collected warm air and held it for the body, the sunlight spackling the deck with light and shade, the hot water hitting the nape of the neck, the tea brewing, the warm water over hands at the kitchen sink. ******
The travel writer Ella Maillart took immense pleasure in her immediate environment in her elder years, following her incredible journeys. I think of this constantly within the home I have been creating over years. And on the other hand, sometimes I'm standing over the kitchen sink and I feel the overwhelm of the never-ending chore staring back at me. I try to remember Rumi: "Let the Beauty we Love be what we DO, there are hundreds of ways to kneel and kiss the ground." ******
The thoughts come in as the bubbles pop up for use against the scrub sponge. The inner G-angster says: I worked all my life to not be tied down by domestic chores while the Equilibrium voice says: Yes but everyone has to do dishes. You're lucky to have dishes and a sink. And so on... And I also think about how much I loved doing dishes by hand growing up in Illinois, where I was always cold. And that calls me back to the realization of the miracle of hot water,and the deep implications of its healing powers to sense of Home.
Home is elemental....what is Home for you? There are so many ways to conceive of this one-word concept with so much meaning embedded.