Well, it appears most of Sevier County got gypped on the blizzard, including Gatlinburg. I’m not complaining, though. Knoxville got our share and I’m happy for them. I’ve been warm and cozy inside with Chess, reading and eating. We’ve seen snowflakes like Forrest Gump saw raindrops: big, fat, heavy flakes, powdery specks, almost sleet-snow that came straight down, fast and true. Right now they’re moderately sized and coming down with purpose. It’s been an event.

I don’t care what it does as long as the electric stays on.

So this morning Angela posted this picture with the caption: “The most utilized light in the house.”

And BAM, onslaught of memories and I knew exactly what I’d be writing about this evening.

Yes, my grandmother often burned this light when the rest would be off. My great-grandmother, too. It was just enough if you were pillaging for a snack, it would get you enough light to see by without running the big light and alerting the entire household of your presence. Sometimes it was spotlighting a treat, or a pan of bread, or maybe just the kettle to put some moisture in the air. It stayed on through the night, helping you see the way. I guess they got electric before they got indoor plumbing and so maybe that was the guiding light to the outhouse, too. It symbolizes home and cozy and the home fires burning for me. It’s a nightlight and a touchstone of an oft-used kitchen. The heart of the home. And I’m glad my friend recognizes it and keeps on with what I would call a tradition. I suppose it ran in her family, too.

Funnily enough, I don’t switch mine on at night. I have a little night light in the kitchen, but the overhead LED one comes on by itself when you turn the corner if I haven’t slapped it off. Kevin runs his, as well as the ones that are underneath the cabinets. We all know the scolding that ensues if you flip on the surgery light for any reason, at any time of day.

But for tonight, I have turned mine on. For the snow, and for remembering. I might pay more homage with some chocolate chip cookies. To all you range light lovers, I see you. ❤️

Ambiance from an Appalachian kitchen,

~Amy