I used to believe there was a secret club for people whose dining tables always looked beautiful. You know the kind of homes I’m talking about. The flowers were never drooping. The candles were always in the right place. Nothing looked forced, but somehow everything worked. Then one day, while helping a friend set the table for an ordinary Sunday lunch, I noticed something...

A few Sundays ago, I opened a cupboard looking for serving bowls. Instead, I found things I’d completely forgotten I owned. A candle stand with the price tag still on it. Napkins I’d bought because they were “too pretty to leave behind.” A decorative tray that had somehow survived three house clean-ups without ever being used. And then, folded quietly...

I don’t think big families actually know what the phrase “just us” means. Someone always brings a cousin. An uncle drops in “for five minutes” and stays for dinner. A neighbour pops over to return a bowl and somehow leaves two hours later after dessert. If you grew up in a house like mine, you’ll understand. Our dining table had one permanent rule. Make space. Somehow, there was always...

I have a strange habit. Whenever I visit someone’s home for the first time, I always end up looking at the dining table. I don’t do it intentionally. I always just happen to look at it. Maybe because dining tables tell you a lot about the people living there.  Some dining tables are covered in books. Some have fruit bowls that nobody touches....