It was one of those weekends that by its very ordinariness became special.
Piero made Jamie Oliver's shepherd's pie (from HERE) on Saturday and we invited a few friends over to enjoy it.
(All photos by Lisa Borgnes Giramonti)
The next morning, we enjoyed the luxury of unfurling on our own schedules (Luca had slept over at a friend's house so there was no need to be at our posts by 7am) and when we came downstairs, the light from the sun threw commonplace objects into sharp relief.
Things seemed to shine with a luminous beauty.
The flowering branches I'd bought the day before seemed to be actually growing out of the wallpaper.
Piero whipped together an omelet with avocado and fine herbes...
...while I sat at the kitchen table and leafed through cookbooks.
I ended up making the raspberry, almond and cardamom cake from Scandilicious and it couldn't have been easier or tastier. (This is what it looked like just out of the oven, before powdered sugar and fresh berries.)
The day unfolded in the same uneventful way. Luca arrived home that afternoon a combination of happy/cranky, having played Legos since 4 am. For dinner, we ate leftover shepherd's pie and the cardamom cake and all went to bed early.
It was an average day.
Nothing momentous happened.
Life ticked on.
And yet when thinking about it now, it seems suffused with an enchanted charm. Now this may be just the poetry of memory and if it is, well, then all the better. Because it's worth remembering that it's us who create meaning in our lives and that sometimes the warm glow comes from us and not just the outside sun.