This morning on the radio a therapist said; a house is a place, a home is about emotions. This is a paraphrase. But I wonder why we feel the need to make a distinction. I have some slight expertise, having lived in several places, several homes over the years of adulthood, beginning with sharing an apartment with a roommate I’d only met once before. Was that a home?
I’m in the midst of sorting through my things, boxing some up in preparation for selling this “home” and moving, again. Each time I’ve moved I had good reasons, and each time I settle in I make the place my home. Putting out my books and little portable memories; seashells, photographs of my children, hanging up art I’ve collected or made and also whatever I make [curtains?] or buy [perhaps new wind chimes] that sets that house apart in my memories of all the places I’ve made home.
A great story on the ‘net recently about 2 women in Maryland who have taken their knitting skills into a local prison. If you’ve been here you know I knit. It’s soothing, meditative, and I love it. What a great honor these women are doing the men in their “home” behind bars. Here:

And another story of Bus 52; the temporary home for 5 newly graduated young people who are spending 52 weeks touring 48 states and recording incredible stories of good deeds wherever they go. You can visit at
Seems to me, wherever we live we are home by the fact that we are there. It’s not necessary that there be curtains on the windows fluttering in a breeze. What there is, is a person with skills and ideals and hope and dreams and that’s a good beginning to a story.
Here’s a Bus 52 stop in Tennessee that I loved;
*Photos; 1) Through our front door, lovely climbing roses, and one of Nato’s designs-the star, and 2) my newest knitting project of bright colors. Yarn; 100% recycled thrift find.