I love that moment in the morning stepping out onto the porch when I search my mind for the source of the smell of wood in the morning. Then it dawns on me, ITS TREES IDIOT. And I (we) own them! Well the bank owns them presently, but every month a little tiny leaf of them becomes ours forever.
As children a lot of girls long for big weddings, pretty clothes, nice big houses and fancy cars with handsome husbands. I wanted a house on the hill, with lots of cats and to be able to write books. Oh, and a smoking hot cowboy husband. Well, my house is at the foot of a mountain and I have dogs not cats. (Turns out I prefer animals I can order around.) And my husband is a handsome hockey player instead of a cowboy, but whatevs. Hockey sticks or cattle brands, they both have a certain kink to them!
For that brief perfumed moment in the morning, I can put aside the fact that I need a water softener, the dogs are digging an even bigger trench under my treasured wrap-around porch that is slowly sinking and there are hand prints and dog snot all over my coveted extra long widows and I just think how freaking lucky I am that I am finally here! Turns out, I am a city hater. The traffic gave me heartburn, the smell reminded me of an outhouse and surprise, I hate having neighbours. I yearned for freedom, dewey grass under barefeet and sipping coffee on my porch in my nightgown with no one gawking at weirdo me.
To be continued….