Cookbooks.  We have many, less than we did but still.  They have their own shelves in the living room, around the corner from the kitchen where T is headed.  There's a jumble of objects on those shelves too, also photographs of my aunt, mother, brother, grand-niece...  

I browse these shelves for inspiration or just because.  The favorites are the collected handwritten recipes of family, sometimes it's just nice to look at their handwriting.  

Some of the books one reaches for time and again, so useful and well loved that they fall open at the right pages.  Others one keeps for various reasons, inherited, new, bizarre, informative, reference, etc. 

It's that time of year when cooking comes more into focus, at least for me.  A time of year when having the oven on seems reasonable with the temperatures starting to cool outside.