Here it is. The big one. The pipe dream. The let yourself go crazy, judgement free zone, only thing holding you down is gravity crazy dream.
First let me set the stage. The sun is warm on my back, I can hear birds, I can smell flowers. I've built the tiny house. I've found a piece of land, doesn't matter where. My home is surrounded by gardens. But not just gardens, a veritable forest of flowers, herbs, fruits and vegetables. I can get to town (or something resembling town) but I'm not in town.
Days are simple. Wake with the sun. Breakfast. Prepare for the day. Maybe I head off to work, maybe I work from home. Lunch. Dinner. Most of my food is grown here. Little flavour is lost when only travelling a few metres from ground to plate.
Chores are done out of love here. Love for the land and for the home. It no longer feels like work, it feels like stewardship.
For me the big dream is shrouded by mist. Sometimes the view changes. The landscape is shifted, the plants are different, the house changes. But dreams are meant to change, the fog is there to allow growth. It is needed. Dreams that stay the same soon grow stagnant. And this is not stagnant, this is warmth and calm, fulfilment and passion. This feels like home.