MORNING LIGHT AT PATINA HOME AND GARDEN

My keys jingle as I lift them to the lock. With a turn of my wrist, I hear a click, the first step in opening. Tick.

My hand drops, fingers wrapping around the well-worn handle as I press down on the thumb latch. I swing the door open, and it lets out its familiar creak, a waking sigh accompanying its first morning stretch. I turn off the blaring alarm, return the door to rest, and am met with silence.

During the day, the shop hums with chatter atop a sweet background of soft music, our familiar song. But in these first moments, there is nothing but the sound of my footsteps ringing against the worn wood floors.

The first light of the morning sun seeps through the windows, dappling the displays with its warm glow.

In these early moments, with me as the sole witness, the shelves hold a quiet patience, as they await the touch of inquiring hands.

Honeyed beams illuminate small spots, while warm pools of light flow from the lamps dotted throughout the room. The space eases quietly into the full radiance that is to come.

I drift around the store, surveying the shelves for anything out of place. Soft linens are refolded neatly, glassware is shifted, pillows are fluffed, and they are returned to rest upon the sofa.

I turn to the Farm Shop and continue my familiar dance, syncopating my steps as our opening hour draws near.

I circle the space, open the fridges, and replace jars on nearly empty shelves.

Before moving to the final tasks, I pause and take it all in. During the rush of the day, little details dissolve into a deluge of to-dos, and my pace quickens until rest finally comes. In this moment, stillness can be savored.

A few minutes to ten, the door groans open again. Rachel, our general manager, calls out, “Good morning,” before heading to the light switch. The store is bathed in light. Music begins, and the shop begins to come to life.

Together, we complete the final steps of our opening routine, as we chat about the morning and prepare for the day ahead.

The last to arrive is our sweet coworker, Elle, carrying our weekly order of fresh sourdough bread. Basket after basket flows through the front door. She arranges it on the shelf near the entrance, ready for regulars to grab upon arrival.

With everything ready and the soft hum of morning rising into the roar of the day, she steps back through the front door to the brick-lined patio, completes the final task, and flips our sign to open, inviting others to join us and bring the shop fully to life.

I cherish my mornings at the shop. Each day, before we open to others, I am reminded that this is not just a place of transaction, but a place of care, a place where beauty patiently awaits discovery.

Before long, my thoughts are interrupted by the sound of our first visitor walking through the door.

“Welcome in!”

xx,

Brooke