"In a hole in the ground there lived a hobbit. Not a nasty, dirty, wet hole, filled with the ends of worms and an oozy smell, nor yet a dry, bare, sandy hole with nothing in it to sit down on or to eat: it was a hobbit-hole, and that means comfort."
Outdoors: cold, grey, snow.
Inside: we're warm and cosy. Writing in our journals. Drinking cups of tea. Building elaborate towers using chairs and stools. Playing with Lord of the Rings figures. Drawing, cutting, pasting.
Later, we're venturing out into the freezing air to journey to the library, post office, and shops, finishing with a quiet coffee hour at Starbucks reading our books.
But for now, we're enjoying our comfortable, respectable hobbit-style moments. Dan has just finished reading J R R Tolkien's classic children's book to Mr J, so life has lately been all about Middle Earth. This morning we were discussing where in Middle Earth we'd like best to live. Righty claimed he wanted to live in Mordor. Lefty and Mr J opted for Gondor, and I decided on Rohan. However, after a while, we all admitted that we'd rather just live in the Shire.
My little brother Nathan listened to me read The Hobbit aloud to him when he was about four or five. That was a long time ago now, as today is his eighteenth birthday. Happy birthday, Nate!