Got to get ourselves back to the garden

Above: The view from our kitchen window, Sunday morning. There's something about being in the kitchen which triggers past life memories; America or Scandinavia, in the 1940s and 50s. I have the rare privilege in living in the exact place of my chosing; was I drawn here by a strong sense of "I've been here - this is familiar - yet I've never been here". Our kitchen - oaken cabinet units and the aroma of coffee, is the spot where more frequently than wherever else I find myself aware of having lived before and indeed of living a blessed afterlife.