For me, 'homemaking' means what the words literally say: making a home, or, to use my mother's preferred expression, 'creating an environment'. It means everything that goes into the creation of a warm, welcoming, regenerative, cozy environment for everyone who lives or visits there.

In my case, and, I imagine, most others, it began with the physical environment. Even before I moved into my home, I had a very clear vision of the character I intended to give to my space once I found one. It began in the kitchen, which was ultimately the first room to be fully put together; I clearly envisioned the fundamentals: there would always be a loaf of good bread, a few bottles of my favourite red wines, an assortment of my most important ingredients, and warm, vibrant colours throughout. Cooking is one of the most relaxing and thoroughly enjoyable activities of which I know, and the completion of the kitchen - a zen-like space for me - set the overall tone for the rest of the flat.

Even through the months in which the physical space was still a work in progress (which, in a way, I suppose it always will be), the other dimension of the home I was building - the interpersonal vibe of the place - had begun to establish itself. While the only other inhabitant is my cat of thirteen years, I intended my home to be not only mine (and the cat's, of course), but also that of my friends, family, and, eventually, of my significant other. As it phrased itself in my mind as I was developing my concept of the place, "people should know that, when they're at my place, they'll be well taken care of." My home was to be known by all who visited as a place that would always be possessed an inherent warm welcome and good scents coming from the kitchen.