Between Winter and Spring

The February Ledger Folio IV.26

The last week of February brings a subtle loosening.

Doors are opened without quite meaning to. Air moves through the house for an hour or two, then retreats again as the temperature drops. By evening, the fire is lit as it has been all winter. Some rituals remain.

There is a sense of readiness in the rooms.

Hats hang within reach — straw beside felt, pale beside black — not yet stored away, not fully required. Objects poised between seasons. They speak quietly of garden paths, of longer days, of a house beginning to turn outward again.

Nothing dramatic has changed. The antique furniture stands where it has stood for months. Timeworn surfaces remain steady. A decorative interior does not need rearranging to acknowledge the season; it simply absorbs it.

Light settles differently now. It reaches further across panel and plaster. It catches woven straw, worn timber, the softened edge of iron.

Doors open.
Fires are lit.
The house holds both.

And somewhere between winter’s discipline and spring’s promise, the rhythm of the interior shifts - almost imperceptibly - towards warmth.