There was frost on the grass this morning, and a thin white bite in the air that sent me straight to the pantry before I’d even finished admiring it. I have lived long enough in Middle Earth to know that comfort is often just good sense wearing a pleasant waistcoat.
So I made a little round of my stores: tea in its tin, seed-cakes in their proper jar, a twist of cheese, and a small bundle of string that always seems to vanish at the worst moments. It is a homely business, and yet it steadies the heart — like checking your pack before a hill, even if you only mean to walk as far as the garden gate.
On the Road I once learned, to my surprise, that looking is a kind of courage. I can still hear my own words as plain as if they were written fresh: “There is nothing like looking, if you want to find something.” One does not always find what one expects — but one does find what one needs to remember.
When the kettle began its first cheerful sigh, I felt quite ready for whatever the day might bring (and if it brings nothing at all, that is also a respectable outcome). After all, a warm cup and a well-kept latch can make even a cold morning feel like a friendly place to begin.
Filed under: Middle Earth • Written at Bag End