When I grow up I shall move to the countryside and buy a red barn next to a pond teeming with bullfrogs.
When the weather is cold, the pond will freeze over and I will hang lanterns around its perimeter to light the ice so you and I and can skate across it after sunset. Together, we'll wobble and spin until our cheeks are rosy and the moon has risen high in the inky sky. Then we'll tramp inside to thaw by the fire where we'll sip hot chocolate and munch on sugar cookies fresh from the oven. Soon, our warm, thawing bodies will fog the window panes, and the house will fill with fireside chatter and laughter. When the fire's crackling flames dwindle to whispering coals someone will spin a song about faraway lands full of giants, wizards, and selfless heroes. We'll smile and imagine, and when the song draws to a close our eyes will grow heavy with sleep. We'll part for the night to head to our beds.
When the weather is warm, I'll rise with the sun, pull on my boots, and head to my expansive vegetable garden where I'll water rows of carrots, sweet peas, potatoes and corn. When my vegetables have drunk all they can drink I'll head to the henhouse to collect fresh eggs. Then I'll milk my pet goats, in spite of their stubborn bleating. Back at the house I'll eat a farm-fresh omelet on my wrap-around porch before heading inside to make blackberry scones. When the sun has warmed my window panes I'll invite you for afternoon tea and still-warm scones with clotted cream. We'll sit on the porch munching and sipping, and then we'll decide that tonight is perfect for a bonfire. We'll invite our neighbors, friends and family, and within hours we'll be roasting marshmallows over a raging fire. As we lick sticky fingers, my neighbor, who happens to be a world class fiddler, will set his fiddle to singing and us to dancing. We'll dance until the kiddos have curled up on blankets and drifted to dreamland, and then we'll pack up and head home until next time.
I just thought you should know.
Photo was taken with my iPhone 4s in Ridgefield, Washington.
© by scj