Someday

I want to live in a dreamy place, with big clouds that are all different shades of grey.
I want a backdrop of rolling hills that blend dark browns with greens and that are speckled with deep yellow and purple flowers growing from rock outcrops.

I want a little stone house with an enclosed porch and a greenhouse next to it. I want a wooden fence around our home, lined with roses and wild-looking shrubs. I want smoke from our woodstove to come out of the chimney and be taken away quite immediately by the wind that whips through the hills.
I want to have bread rising next to the woodstove in my big white bowl with a tea towel over it. I want to have sheep and goats grazing in the hills that come into an old barn at dusk and I want chickens who peck around the greenhouse.

I want the sun to peek through the clouds, patterning the hills and giving the cats a bath. I want lace curtains in the windows and quilts on all the beds. I want rag rugs on our wood floors. I want to come in from the beautiful and tragic outdoors to a cozy and warm house with my love, who is wearing a sweater and boot socks that I knitted for him, followed by our dog who never leaves his side.
I want to be carrying a baby, bundled up in handmade knits, in a sling on my breast. And I want my hands always to be busy with work that matters to me and that makes our simple lives more beautiful and filled with useful things.

But for right now, I have to go to work.
Love, T.