Somewhere where I could still see and access the mainland to feel a connection to the world, but a place with privacy where my cats and dogs could run freely about; where neighbors’ animals would not be creating a commotion on my property with mine. Where I would not have to watch someone new buy a wooded lot, cut all the trees down to build a house and then plant new trees. It’s bothersome to see wildlife habitat destroyed.
An island where I would not worry about my neighbors when my dogs are barking insanely at a squirrel snatching every leaf it can fit into its mouth to build a nest.
An island with a few simple buildings. A main house with open areas and lots of windows so you would almost feel as though you were still outside. A wrap-around porch worthy of sleeping on when the weather invites. A porch with a view such as the one in the background of this post. And rocking chairs. A studio where I could paint or sculpt or cast metal without having to put everything securely away when I was done. A place I could work after dark. Obviously, a place off-limits to the cats and dogs. A workshop for the mower and weed whacker, tools, wheelbarrow and such. A barn-like structure of sorts for the animals that would clean up easily and be comfortable to those that want to stay outside (yes, some of mine would not come in the house if you left the door open all day). And a small cottage for guests so they could have whatever privacy they needed.
A garden full of wonderful fresh vegetables and herbs. Maybe a small orchard with pear and apple trees. Some berry plants. And grapes.
An island that gets quiet and peaceful when everything shuts down — the computer, the internet, the phone, even the music. No news about catastrophes, animal abuse, children starving to death, corporate bottom lines, needless wars, opinions, petitions.
Where minutes crawl by at a long, slow and leisurely pace.
Let my pasture grow tall and my lawn almost as tall if I want. Dance in the meadow without worrying what anyone might think.
And just as important, I would like to share this space with a most special someone that feels the same about this lifestyle. Someone who can be spontaneous, who has a wonderful sense of humor and a kind heart; someone with a large love of animals; a charitable person; a patient person; someone who still enjoys adventures and learning new things. An inventive spirit; a designer of many things; a thinker.
I’m sure there is more I can add to this wish, but I have at last written it down and released it to the universe. That’s a start.
The music choice for this evening’s “sit” on the porch is Jesse Brian Marchant — JBM — a Montreal-based singer-songwriter. His debut album, Not Even in July, was released last year. It was recorded in Henry Hirsch’s church studio in Hudson, NY. Wonderful sound for his deep, rich guitars. Moving lyrics. An incredible musician. Can I name a favorite song? Sure, but it changes with each listen, then it changes again when I listen to it through earplugs/headphones. So I guess I would tell you to pick one, any one. But listen to them all. You can hear the album online from his website.
Click this link to see the unobstructed view of this sunset.