CottageCore: Day in the Life

Wintertime CottageCore

The jarring sound of your alarm clock pulls you from your deep slumber. You reach over to your rickety bedside table to turn it off. It's 7:30 am.

Underneath a pile of homemade quilts, you are sufficiently warm and cozy. So warm and cozy that the idea of rising out of bed into the brisk morning air is enough to make you seriously consider lying there all day.

Your cat decides that this won't work for him, crawling onto your chest and meowing loudly in your face. He's hungry, and, come to think of it, so are you. 

You groan as your feet hit the floor and you eagerly search for your slippers. They are an extremely comfortable pair that you found at the local thrift shop. You lay eyes on them, quickly slipping your feet inside. 

Next comes the robe, and you're off to the kitchen. 

Through the windows above your kitchen sink, you watch the snow fall heavily to the ground. It's going to be a cold one. 

You light a few candles around the kitchen and living room before putting on the kettle, more than excited for a hot cup of tea. You're thinking chamomile might hit the spot. 

After feeding your cat, you ponder what you might have for breakfast. 

Perhaps some homemade pancakes. 

You get to work mixing and pouring and flipping, creating a tall stack of beautiful pancakes. 

Placing three on a plate, still steaming, you top them with homemade raspberry preserves and a sprinkle of powdered sugar. You cut up a pear to eat on the side, sprinkling the fruit with a little cinnamon. 

Before you start devouring your warm, delicious breakfast, you choose a book from your bookshelf. You finished up a riveting novel before bed last night, so you get to choose a new one now. 

You decide on a collection of Emily Dickinson poems.

By 9, you're satiated in both body and mind. The poetry you read left you inspired, ideas for your own scribbles bouncing around inside your head. 

You head to the living room and grab a pen and your journal. The edges of the journal are worn, the pages full of sketches, poems, and general musings. You sink into the couch, flip to the first clean page, and get to writing. 

Around 10, after your head is clear and your pages full, you decide you could go for some exercise. 

It's far too cold to do anything outdoors, so you decide on a bit of indoor yoga. You move the lit candles to surround you on the floor, creating a calming aura for your practice. Then you put on a soft, calming record. 

Finding peace, you stretch and bend and turn, loosening all of the muscles in your body and finding intense tranquility. At the end of your practice, you meditate for a few minutes. 

Around 11, you decide to write a few letters to your family and friends. They haven't heard from you in a while, and you want to update them on your life. You gather a few sheets of loose paper, a pen, and some envelopes. You'll write five letters. One for your dad, mom, grandparents, sister, and best friend. 

After writing, you seal them with your personalized wax seal, give each a few stamps, and write the mailing information on the front with your calligraphy pen. You've been practicing with it, and want to show off your artistry. 

You slip out of your slippers and into your boots, slide on a jacket, and head out to the mailbox. 

Outside, the air is frigid and the snow over a foot deep. It's certainly a winter wonderland. Once you place your letters in the mailbox, you hurry back to the house, already shivering. 

Back inside, you strip off your clothes and decide to put on something besides pajamas. You pull on a thick, cozy sweater, lounge pants, and fuzzy socks. 

Heading back to the kitchen, you think about what you might want for lunch. You look at what food is in the house and settle on a veggie bowl. 

You harvest some spinach and kale from your indoor plants-some of the only things you can keep from your garden through the winter. You also wash a head of cauliflower and broccoli to be roasted with a little seasoning and oil. While the veggies roast, you reheat some leftover northern beans and chickpeas on the stove. Then, you dice half an onion. 

Once the veggies and beans are ready, you toss it all in a bowl and drizzle oil and vinegar on the top. You pour a glass of water, then turn on your laptop to watch a movie while you eat. 

After you eat, you migrate to the couch to finish your film. It ends around 2:30, and the thought of gingerbread cookies pulls you back to the kitchen. You put on another record and get baking. 

Mouthwatering smells fill the house as you sing and sway your way to a batch of hot cookies. 

You enjoy a plate of cookies and a glass of homemade oat milk while you work on holiday presents. You prefer doing homemade gifts for your loved ones. They feel more personal, and they are often cheaper and more sustainable than something store bought. 

For your father, who loves to cook, you want to create some unique spice jars. You tie a bit of twine around some old salt and pepper shakers and begin filling them with different combinations of spices that you test out as you go. One is Italian-inspired, another Mexican, the next with smoky, barbecue hints, and the last inspired by an Egyptian recipe you saw online. 

For your mother, you make a body scrub out of coconut oil, coconut sugar, and essential oils. You also create a body butter from cacao butter. You put them both in mason jar and decorate them with paint.

Your sister has an obsession with soft, warm things, so you have been in the process of knitting her some socks and a beanie. 

Your grandparents' gift is already completed: a wind chime made from shells you collected from the beach and a thick piece of wood you found outside. 

Around 7 pm, gifts made and wrapped in recycled materials, you heat up some leftover soup made of butternut squash, carrots, sweet potato, and spinach, and squeeze a little lime juice on top. 

After dinner, you take a warm bath and rejoin Emily Dickinson.

Back in pajamas, you wash the dishes and tidy up around the house. 

At 9:30, you slide under your blankets and settle in for the night.