You tend a garden. You create a home. It is serene.
You live there a time. You make friends with the birds and neighbours.
You listen to coyotes. You run along the lake.
You swim. It is all lovely. You pick berries and provide
for yourself from your own garden, your own fruit tree. You lose yourself in the woods, and it is good.
People smile at you. They stop to talk to you. They take time. You take time. You write, and paint, and make videos. You rock in a chair in the second floor reading nook, and slowly sip a glass of wine. You are your truest self in your hammock, admiring the wash of colour that is the garden in full bloom, then an eagle flies overhead. Or a storm gallops in.
Or a hummingbird savours a delpinium. Or you get up at 2:00 a.m. or 4:15 a.m. just to stand outside and marvel at the everywhere stars.
Sometimes you lend this place out. Sometimes you must be away for a long time. Life gets complicated. Then more complicated.
You hope someone will love it as much as have.