Does anyone else ever long for different, well anything? Are you captivated by otherness and the idea of possibility? I was raised in a rural Nebraska community and when I left, I swore I would never return. Funny thing how those words and thoughts can return to haunt a person. I married the guy I dated in high school and he wanted to return back to the town we were both raised in. Of course, I eventually conceded and found myself right in the middle of all the things I had hoped to move past, to leave behind. It wasn't that it was horrible or even a place I hated. It was just that I wanted more.
Interestingly, even though my husband wanted to call this place home, he has always been willing to go, travel, experience the world out there. That's kind of rare where we live. And equally rare is his acceptance of my need to sort out a space that is unique and satisfying in the midst of all this sameness. 1048Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ5CIFtjZcNO
When I go up the stairs and follow the sidewalk around to my patio, I can feel the tension begin to lift out of my shoulders. As I walk past the fountain and meander over to seating area that surrounds the fireplace, I pause to pick up some wood and the lighter to start the fire. The fire begins to take hold and the smell of burning wood permeates the air. I sink into the cushions in my chair and swivel around to admire the white birch tree that shades the corner of the patio. The low growing red rose bushes are in full bloom and the tall, thin evergreen trees highlight the path out into the yard and frame the three armed trellis with it's climbing roses and statue at it's center. At the back of the yard is the round fire pit area with white adirondack chairs circling it. Behind them is a semicircle of the tall, cypress like evergreens that shield my view of the vegetable garden growing at the back of the yard. My eyes rest on the checkerboard seating area nestled below the Ponderosa pines. Statues peak up above the Hosta leaves, and flowers bloom in the pot perched at the corner of the checkerboard. My mind wanders back to the inspiration for each vignette and as I catch the smell of smoke again, I realize I am smiling and at peace. This is my place. artistically carved out of mundane sameness, a sort of scrapbook that denies it's setting. This place, which, without my visions of past experiences brought home to inspire my sanctuary, could be any other place.
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