a little red house


We came upon the orchard and the farm, the sun finally burned off the morning fog and the I pulled into the last parking spot and was overwhelmed by the feeling of home. It might have started on the few mile drive off the beaten path, when the car slowed and we ooh'ed and ahh'd over farm houses and fields with horses and goats and the colors of autumn in the trees. The colors of home.

I've been thinking and daydreaming about where we'll end up. Once we tire of renting and grow out of this space {hopefully not for another year or longer...} There are places where I say I want to visit, but really, I want to live in them all. Iceland. The mountains in New Hampshire. Montana. The west coast. On the beach somewhere. England. France {Provence...deep sigh...} I want to wake up in these places for multiple months, maybe years and do what we do, just... there.

And then this morning, hugging the backroad curves, all those feelings dissipated and my inner dialog went something along the lines of: "maybe I could simply visit all those other places, if home was here..."


A little red house. A bunch of trees. Space for running and sitting and sipping warm drinks on cold end of September mornings.

Yes, someday.


  1. As soon as I saw this photo this morning, I knew you'd write about it. I can see you there!

  2. Me too...everything! It will happen. :)

  3. love that photo. it just looks like the place you'd want to call home.

  4. The plans are most assuredly taking place for that transition, although you're dreaming it now. I think that's the first, most important step. The imagery and the feeling arrives before the manifestation. I love the places you would like to see. Those sound absolutely wonderful.


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