I considered yesterday the first official day of my three-week sabbatical. And what better way to sound the trumpet than a day trip to Serenbe to visit Ali. Her home is nestled in this little village of easy conversations, doors left wide open with no fear, pies cooling on windowsills, Opie skipping rocks on a still stream . . . I told Ali I don't know how she gets any work done; there's too much "nothing" to keep oneself busy and happy all day long. Her home — spectacular as I knew it would be:
"Our house was not unsentient matter — it had a heart and a soul, and eyes to see with; and approvals and solicitudes and deep sympathies; it was of us, and we were in its confidence and lived in its grace and in the peace of its benedictions. We never came home from an absence that its face did not light up and speak out in eloquent welcome — and we could not enter it unmoved."- Samuel Clemens
I am probably the most content person you'd ever want to meet. I have a decent job working with people I like, a loving family including a swell Old English Sheepdog, a home where nesting and curling up on slipcovered sofas is required, and a life rich in creative crafting and daydreaming. I someday want a cottage at the beach where my grandchildren can bring sandy feet into the house, wet bathing suits can dry on the front porch and everything we need to get to is a bicycle ride away.