:11/30:

 

I want…

…to grow things.

…to knit with a kitten on my lap.

…to wear wool socks.

…to sew a dress.

…to draw my own herbal grimoire.

…to drink wine as the moon rises through the trees.

…to sit around a bonfire in the cold of winter with friends and family, roasting s’mores.

…to read a new book with rain pattering against the windows.

…to watch the original Dark Crystal, and hope the new series doesn’t ruin it all.

…to make every ornament for the tree next month.

…to curl up with my love in a cold, dark house under warm, thick blankets.

:haven:

Growing up, I have always re-written stories. Long before I knew what fan fiction was, I would close the book on the last page of a story, and imagine myself into that world. I was a princess, befriending the dragon everyone feared and ultimately saving the kingdom. I was the young girl crossing the American west into a brave new world full of hardship and discovery. I was the space pilot, stranded on the enemy ship and trying to find a way back to the rebellion. Those stories shaped me more than anything else in my life. Through books I have lived thousands of lives. I have saved planets, vanquished villains, found my true love, and found my purpose. 

There is nothing I like more than a good book. 

I’m one of those people who walks into a used bookstore and feels better just breathing in the smell. I can spend hours and hours just drifting along the stacks. I love to touch them. I love the feel of them in my hands.

If I was ever the last surviving human on earth, I would be happy as long as I had books. 

As a child, I was shy, painfully so. It was almost debilitating. Books were my refuge to another world where I was brave and beautiful and had a ton of friends. Where I had a sharp and witty comeback to every taunt, and were bullies always lost. My sister, the gregarious one, was my buffer. I always had a book on me, and social discomfort usually found me retreating to a quiet corner and escaping into another world. 

I am so grateful for books, in all their forms and genres. Maybe that is why I have long wished to write my own. I am working on that now. I started my first attempt with winning NaNoWriMo last Year. Now I’m looking ahead to Camp NaNoWriMo in July. 

Maybe one day my own story will be among the others on the selves. 

:gone country:

I grew up in cities and suburbs. My mother’s idea of camping involves a top-of-the-line fifth wheel with all the conveniences of home a hotel room without room service. I was raised to play inside, keep my dress clean, and blow out the curl of my hair.

My mother has no idea where she went wrong with me.

I live in a tiny cabin in the mountains. My kids only wear shoes to go outside if they have to go into the chicken coop. Yes, we keep chickens. The driveway down from the main roads is steep enough to give FedEx fits. We can see the Milky Way from the deck of our house because we have no light pollution.

I love the warmth of the sun on my skin.

I love the feel of dirt beneath my feet.

The idea of sitting outside beneath a tree, just for the chance to feel the solidness of the trunk behind my back and the wind in my curls is relaxing.

Actually being able to do it is lovely.

The days we do go down to the city are stressful, and I look forward to the weekend when we can all just settle at home.

Doug and I have been on a search for a home of our own. A place where we can steward the land and the wildlife. Having lived in the country for the last two years, I can safely say I have absolutely no desire to live in the city or a suburb ever again.

Of course, I have no crystal ball to tell me what the future will bring, but here’s hoping.

:once upon a time…:


…there was a very lucky nine year old girl (the one behind her sister) who travelled to distant lands and saw wondrous sights and wondered if she could one day grow up and go back to those distant lands to study the history of these ancient people.

Unfortunately, she was told to turn her attention away from such silly thoughts.

She was told that all that could be found was found.

She was told all that could be known was known.

She was told, it was foolish.

And so, she turned away from these foolish thoughts and silly dreams.

Decades later she watched documentary after documentary showing the new discoveries being made of those ancient people she had longed to study. This made the young woman she had grown up to be very sad, and so she vowed to listen to no one else about how and what to do with her dreams. Eventually, she met a man who felt the same way and encouraged her to follow her dreams, no matter how silly they may seem to others.

She never went back to that distant land, but she is living happily (ever after.)