The reason for everything else on this site: loud dinners, small hands, and a house worth coming home to.
It's not a quiet house, and I wouldn't trade a minute of the noise.
Everything else here, the photographs, the cooking, the books, is really just the long way of describing the people I come home to. They are the reason for the windows open, the second helping, the road trip that takes the scenic route on purpose.
The best hours happen around a crowded table, somewhere between the meal and the part where nobody wants to leave. I keep most of it to myself. But this is the shape of it: the small, repeating things that make a house the place I'd rather be than anywhere.
The people who turn a house into the place I actually want to be.