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Thursday, January 23, 2014
Having a daydreaming Anne Shirley kind of moment over here.
It's been marinating for years, my dream, you know. growing and evolving- and I find myself, in times of transition, slipping into it's little corner of my heart to bask in it. There's this long lane, lined with oak trees and white wooden fence. Horses grazing on either side. I turn the corner and I'm there in the garden wearing a loose dress with a big sun hat and wellies on, pulling weeds, maybe harvesting some dahlias for the kitchen table. There's a few kids playing tag in the garden, scandalizing an old hen named Stella, exploring and getting into all kinds of mischief. There's probably a dog or two thrown in the mix there two, if I know me. The house is modest and quaint, but beautiful all the same. There's ivy growing over the front porch, and maybe some bougainvillea if I can swing it. Inside there's a baby sleeping in the nursery and bread rising in the kitchen. The kitchen always smells warm. You know the smell. There's a huge butcher block island, well-used and worn just right. Oh and a huge sink with a window overlooking the garden, this is important. The rest of the house is vague, there's dark wood floors and leather couches, a huge stone fireplace and just the right amount of persian rugs. The ceilings are tall and there's a considerable library around the corner with a sort of musty book smell, tartan wool blankets and old fashioned brass reading lamps. There's the barn out back by the chicken coop, occupied by an old snub nosed barn cat with an attitude and a big hairy pig named Frances. I see myself there, it feels so right, but I know it's not quite time for it. Not yet. I slip it away into it's neat little file to let it grow some more. I can wait for it, I know it's fate. It'll happen when it should, in some form or other. so I'll just be patient now. and wait.