Sometimes when I can't sleep, I close my eyes drift away.
If I just let my imagination take over, I find myself creating a new place.
Somewhere in that limbo between wakefulness and sleep, I build my dream home...
I drive through the woods down a winding gravel road. I can smell the pine trees and hints of honeysuckle. The sky is baby blue with puffs of white clouds. It's a perfect 70 degrees with a slight breeze. I can hear the birds singing in the treetops. There are plump, wild blackberries arching over the roadside and I pass a patch of wild roses, their sweetness filling the car for a moment.
Around the final bend and past the gate- the crunch of gravel smooths into a silent sound of tires on asphalt- a driveway bordered by a green manicured lawn- and before me stands my dream house. Two things stand out most. It's red -and it's full of wonderful windows.
I find the big brass key and twist in in the lock. A familiar click opens the front door and sunshine pours into the entryway. The floor is irregular slate tiles and to the right is a white hall tree with hidden shoe storage. There's a row of odd shaped hooks for hats and jackets- and there's a vintage shawl draped over one.
To the left is a small area with large windows. There's a homemade desk with a computer station and the window shades are old school maps that pull down to block the sun.
On the wall is an antique clock and some hand painted signs. All my office supplies are in baskets or salvaged containers and there's a row of old globes on a shelf above the windows. My desk chair is a painted find from Goodwill- with new wheels and a flour sack seat cushion to make it more comfortable during a long day of blogging. Three old galvanized funnels hang over the desk as pendant lights.
The windows look out on the woods. There's a rustic brick fireplace and shaggy rugs.
A door on the left leads to the screened in porch. There's a feather bed with crisp white sheets that smell like lilacs. And a silly little bathing area...
I step into the doorway on the right instead- entering the kitchen. It's flooded with sunlight and fresh baked cinnamon rolls fill the air. In my dream it looks something like this:
Oh, my...I'm getting sorta sleepy now.... (Yawn...)
To Be Continued...