Last night I dreamed of a tiny wooden cabin in the heart of mountain country. In this dream, there were windows cracked open to let the sound of bird chatter into the house. A tiny wooden cabin with a door as bright as yellow sunshine and the sound of dishes clinking and clacking in a kitchen. It was inviting in its own delicate way, not a single window or wooden beam looked groomed, broken pallets sat next to a dusty oak shed, tufted hairgrass and baby's breath were growing tall and mighty just like bean stalks do. It looked like a place I could call my home.
The way a sunbeam frolics in my dreams is always hazy and blossomy like a summertime flower. I try to pull at the sun but it stays where it wants to be, high in the sky and healing. I never realize the dream is only a dream until morning comes. My body sleeps in the cotton-covered bed but I live in my minds view of a tiny wooden cabin in the heart of mountain country. When morning is here and the faint scent of coffee rises into the air, I know that my dream was only a dream, but a good dream nonetheless. Some days, I open both eyes at once as if I am in a mad hurry to hear my name. Other days, I settle in and fall back into my pillow for safe keeping. It is only after waking do I realize how I wish these dreams were what I called my life.
This tiny cabin in the mountains with its door as bright as yellow sunshine is a place I've never visited in my waking life. I built the tufted hairgrass and the baby's breath while I slept. Is this dream of a cabin with its dusty oak shed and wildflowers simply a story told to me while I sleep or is this a calling I should listen to?
Some people ask me what it is about pressed flowers and fruit trees that lure me into a frenzied warble. My answer could only be that life is a melting pot of glum and goodness, but the pressed flowers and fruit trees are here to bring sunbeams closer to the skin. This is my time for turning dreams into days of fruit picking and flower growing. This is me learning how to build a life that leads me to the tiny cabin in the heart of mountain country.
Bear tights – OASAP
Boots – A Western & Tackle store in Montana