daydreaming in the sun
Today the house is quiet. Pollywog is asleep~ The house is clean as we await the arrival of grammy and papa~ There is a calm breeze slowly making it's way through the house~ my chirping friends our singing their daily chorus all around me~ and I am foggy with dreams~
I am lost in thought while staring out my kitchen window. This is my favorite spot in the house. The concrete floors are cool under my feet. They are a deep, walnut color. Rugs woven of fiber lay across the floor. Succulent plants fill my kitchen. Aloes, Hens and chicks, jades. They hang or sit in pots I made from the clay down at the stream (this is truly my favorite nook). Outside my window, chimes ,tinkle and plunk together. I love chimes so it's no surprise that they are all over the yard and the trees. I am kneading bread that I will let rise on the patio, in the warm sun. The same patio that I poured my blood and sweat in this past fall, (literally). I found the stones by all of our favorite rivers, and Brian graciously let me hull them home in our truck each time. I have always had an affinity for collecting rocks and stones. They almost have a heartbeat to me. I love the stories they tell, the way they feel in my hands, and the colors. My patio's floor tells these stories and displays these designs, that spoke to me near the rivers and streams.
I love the smell of the patio when it rains. The rocks earthy smell steams, and the mint, lavender and lemon basil that surrounds the patio, is a mist of heaven I often stand under, letting my pores sip.
Brian and Henry built a wooden, trellis overhang that honeysuckle and wisteria crawl, creep and wrap around. Under this shelter of sorts, sits a wooden table and chairs, a large candle and and usually someone napping, reading or lunching.
Out in the green meadow of wildflowers, mint and whatever else has managed to push through, sits an old, grandpa oak- and this oak kindly holds our hammock. This tree and me have become dear, old friends. I have made so many promises to it and in return he has loved me in only a way a dear, old, tree can.
I am so happy we finally made it. We found the perfect land in our blessed Oregon. Purchased this land with a few, dear friends. Each of us building our little nooks and straw bale homes.
It is here that we will eat from our land. It is here that we will laugh at our quirky friends, the chickens. It is here that we will name and fall in love with our goats and ducks. It is here that I will mold my clays, paint, cook, watch my children flourish,learn explore and dance with the seasons. It is here that we will all sing, make great meals and enjoy our piece of earth. It is here that Brian and Henry and whomever else joins in, will make, build, invent and create.It is here that we will give to the earth and she will give back in abundace. It is here...our casa...