The written loom

Dear Stranger,

Here in Greece, there was no snow.. At least not in the city..

There was rain instead.. The kind that falls insistently, as if it wants to wash the sky clean before allowing anything to appear..

All day long, the clouds tested our patience.. They stood in front of the moon as if they had decided not to let us see her tonight..

And yet, the Snow Moon is not the kind of moon that gives up easily..

Somewhere between the rain, she found a small opening in the sky and greeted us..

Not brilliant..
Not fully revealed..
But present..

Inside the house, the fireplace was burning.. Small and large pieces of wood crackled and snapped as they burned, speaking their own quiet language..

It was one of those nights that ask for very little..

Time for books..
Time for tea..
Time to sit without waiting for anything..

The rain continued, along with the power outages, those sudden interruptions that, strangely enough, did not affect the mood.

If anything, they reminded us that not everything needs to work perfectly for us to feel well.

Outside, in the olive grove, the ground had turned to mud.. The rain had softened the earth, bringing it back to its own rhythm.. Soon, the grove will need to be ploughed.. Now that the soil is ready.. Now that it no longer resists..

And in moments like these, you remember that nature always knows what it is doing.. It provides for everything.. It prepares for everything..
It does not rush, it simply waits for the right moment..

The Snow Moon did not come to light the road ahead.. She came to light the moment..

To remind us that even when the weather does not cooperate, even when things feel heavy and unclear, there is always a way to prepare the ground..

Some full moons do not ask to be looked at in the sky.. They ask to be lived indoors..

And this one, in the rain, by the fire, with tea and books, did exactly that..

She found us at home..

Tatiana,