Embrace the Essence of Italian Bliss

A Journey to Serenity and Simplicity

Enchanted Snowfall Mornings

Enchanted Snowfall Mornings

Since I was a child, I’ve always slept with the windows open, especially in winter. The cold air that entered through my nose and found its way inside me was a sweet caress that heralded the arrival of the fairies who cradled my dreams as a young girl.

Even as an adult, I’ve kept that habit. I still vividly remember that January morning when the first and only snowflakes of the season paid me a visit in my rooms, sneaking in through the window, probably in the dead of night.

I woke up while it was still dark, with the fresh, pure scent of newly fallen snow, and I stayed under the blanket, watching the glistening flakes that covered the antique oak floor. Hercules, my seven-month-old foundling kitten, joined me moments later, and we both remained on the bed, cuddling each other. I can still hear the sound of his purring and feel my fingers sinking into that soft white belly.

I can’t recall exactly how long we stayed there, nestled in the handmade wool blankets from my grandmother, a bit worn by the passage of time, suspended in that timeless cloud with the melting snow I would soon have to dry.

I got up reluctantly, stretching lazily and watching Hercules, who had no intention of rising. As I walked step by step toward the kitchen, the house became warmer, the scent of snow faded, and the enveloping aroma of cinnamon insinuated itself between the walls.

I could imagine it: my sister was baking breakfast cookies, and the hearth’s aroma reminded me of how lucky I was.

The fireplace was already lit, and the table was almost set, adorned with the yellow tablecloth embroidered by our elderly neighbor. Smoke rose from the spout of the cast iron teapot, where a delicious forest fruit tea was steeping.

In the meantime, I sat in the armchair by the crackling fireplace, and Milly, the carpenter’s cat who occasionally stayed with us, approached nonchalantly to claim the prime spot by the hearth.

From the large window of the living room, still a bit wet from condensation, I watched the overcast sky and flocks of birds flying low. The nature around me hinted that soon the snow would start falling again, and the spirits of the fairies would remain with us throughout the day.

What else could we need to be happy?

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