Kitchen table love

Back then, when I was still lucky enough to be in university, I did a study for social geography. I went to live in Poland, in a family in a very small rural village and research their everyday life. A small part of this was locating if there is an actual place where life takes part, and I figured that one out pretty quickly.
It was the kitchen table.

And really, how could you not love this table cloth?

All communication, smoking, drinking vodka (not me. I only witnessed.), singing songs, debating politics, showing photos, teaching stupid me grammar, baking the most delicious stuff, talking to the priest, taking the guts out of the freshly slaughtered goose, breastfeeding my little Ronja, took part at the kitchen table.

Man, this pic does make me nostalgic.

Fast forward, when I was pregnant with my twins, we decided to get a really big kitchen table ourselves. Like, a three metre long kitchen table. One that has room for the six of us, plus my sewing machine. One that can easily accomodate 12 persons. So we did.
One you can put sleeping newborns on...

See those arms of their godfathers on the right border? Making sure they won´t fall down, even though they can´t even move? I love this!

One that won´t mind messing on it with paint...

 

Pretty much everyday, for years...

 One to bake cookies on...

I love this picture. Seriously, I think it´s one of the most beautiful pictures I have of my sons.

 ...and play board games at...

...and to use to feed the hoards.

 

But really, when I started to write this post, I didn´t intend to write about my kitchen table. I had planned to show off some of our rescent craft projects, such as this little plate Eva made me...  
or the drawstring bag I made for Ronja yesterday:

 

Or the cool fruit bowl I made from an old classic record, heated in the oven:

And then I figured that all the pictures I took last week happened to be at our kitchen table. 

Just like most of my pictures in Poland were taken at their kitchen table. And when I think back, to all the host families I ever visited, well, their life happened around their kitchen table, too. 

And when I now go out, step on my bike and visit my friend, I bet we´ll sit around her kitchen table, kids peeling tangerines, while we´re sipping tea and pondering about life. 

So, quite accidently, this post turned into an hommage about my kitchen table. Strange, this is. But really, there are thousand things that make a family. A kitchen table for sure is one of them. 

My music for today necessarily has to be the newest upload of Michael Henry and Justin Robinett:

Such silly lyrics. Such a stupid song. And such a glorious interpretation that I feel like my woolen hat is been blown away. Just look at them around 1:17, they are AMAZING. Really, listen to it. Look at the sun outside.  Or, look at those hands smashing the piano. It´s pretty much the same. Doesn´t it just make your heart fly? I love what music can do to you. It can crash you, or, like this song, completely pick you up.

And when I´m at writing the longest, non coherent post ever anyway, I just can leave you with my very favourite musician ever: 

My Eva. Playing my favourite Handel piece :)