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The birds are sleeping in this morning. It’s twenty past five and outside is silent, save for the gurgling of the creek.
It’s an idea that bounced to life unexpectedly (love those kind). It’s something for us, for you and I to share together. I’m calling it Three Things and it’s so simple.
I’m ready to get away. Planned, or not at all, I’m ready to grab my get-away kit (picnic kit, almost-but-not-quite-camping-kit, whatever you’d like to call it), throw my weekender in the car, and hit the road.
A stack of Picardie tumblers. A Bormioli Rocco carafe. Pewter salt & pepper shakers. Clamp-lid jars. A cribbage set. A cot. A wooden bangle bracelet. A shell necklace. Bright yellow Hunter boots. There’s something about finding treasure in the heap.
There’s a certain hope, a longing. A gossamer sketch of a dream just beyond where you can reach. A one-day place or space somewhere, sometime where life just isn’t so hard.
For all my minimalist tendencies, I do get carried away when it comes to fresh flowers in the house in summer.
The window washers are coming in a week to clean summer’s dust and etchings of water droplets from the glass