Sensory stimuli—what we hear, see, taste, smell and feel—give shape to a room’s energy or atmosphere. Purely functional spaces, as offices are sometimes considered to be, often lack qualities beyond the basic human comforts. Consider walking into a restaurant, a concert hall, or even a retail shop, where all the layers of materiality come together to produce an almost emotive affect.

Natural materials generally feel best. We are told they breathe. I imagine my cotton t-shirt taking a deep breath, letting the air fill the space between each thread. In response to my inhalation, the shirt I am wearing expands to accommodate the expansion of my lungs. If I were wearing a tighter, stiffer shirt, my breathing might adjust to become shallower, more restricted.

Growing up, once I was able to dress myself, I did so four to six times a day. Constantly trying on new combinations, each outfit felt like I was wearing a different person. The clothes gave me permission to play with and express different aspects of myself that were usually hidden.

I’ve been planning an overhaul of the back room just behind our kitchen. It’s currently an office for my husband and I, but we’re dismantling it soon to make room for a nursery. I’ve been told by a few people that this room is unnecessary for a newborn—the baby won’t even sleep in it for the first few months and doesn’t really need anything.

One of the best parts of spring after a long winter is getting to open the windows. It seems like such a small act but has a huge impact. A major part of this is because of the sound. Opening the window is like turning up the volume.

I was waiting in line for the bus after a somewhat stressful morning when I noticed an empty swing across the street. Almost without thinking I walked towards it, dodging the oncoming traffic.

I’ve always really liked tradition. I don’t consider myself traditional in the conservative sense, and I love creating new traditions, but I also appreciate the continuation of certain rituals. There’s something about repeating a practice that can only continue through the act of doing it. Reading about it is not enough. Talking about it doesn’t do it justice. You have to feel it. Experience it.

Montreal gets a lot of snow, most of which is plowed, piled and picked-up by giant snow removal trucks. But as that happens, while the city works, there’s a moment where the sidewalk is transformed from a straight, cement grid, to a fluffy, winding pathway.

The New York Times recently revealed the latest in airport comfort. In an attempt to alleviate the stress new mothers might face while trying to find a space for breastfeeding, Seventh Generation, a household and baby care-company, is sponsoring the installation of nursing pods in New York airports. The announcement is being made to “coincide with Mother’s Day”. These 4 x 8 foot, free-standing containers, are being built by Mamava, a breastfeeding solutions and advocacy group. Their mission, as stated on their website, is “making the world a friendlier place for women who pump or breastfeed.”

I recently moved into my boyfriend’s house. Moving is a strangely emotional and disorienting process, in addition to being a notoriously stressful life event.

I had given a lot of thought to this move in the sense of what it meant for my partner and I in terms of our relationship, but I hadn’t necessarily thought about the other new relationship I was entering—the one with his house.