Don’t you just love the kitchen table? I’ve loved mine for years. I inherited it, because I have the only house that fits it. The nook in our kitchen (perhaps called a dining room by fancier sorts, though nothing divides it, really, from the kitchen) that houses our six-foot-long table seems made for it. It’s often my favorite writing place, maybe because I have lovely memories of different kitchen tables.

Our kitchen table is home to art projects and dinner parties, folding fests and dumping messes, scattered papers and packed bags. Depending on the day and the plan, our kitchen table can be launching pad or landing pad. When I work at home and the kids are underfoot, I often make it Mission Central and cozy up to it.

You might wonder why I’m talking about my kitchen table when the title of this post has to do with a title of Mary. What does my kitchen table have to do with a title of Mary that makes you think of a resort? Well, you’ll have to go over to Today’s Catholic Woman to read my latest column to find out. 🙂

Photo courtesy of Jeremy Pullen, who portrays a Vermont country kitchen that looks pretty much nothing like mine, but it IS a lovely picture, don’t you think?
(I would have liked to share a picture of MY table, but it just wasn’t working out this morning.)