A little house, made with my own hands. A homestead, really, with gardens all around, plants climbing up the walls, maybe a fruit tree or two. Black walnuts. Flowers for the bees. Maybe some chickens.

A little house, just for me, with a wood stove for the winter and big, diaphanous windows for the summer. Space for all my books. A cob oven in the back and enough room in the kitchen for some serious baking. And some whimsical baking too, why not?

And a loom, maybe, craft space at least, a little studio with one of those big windows in it. Boxes for yarn and thread and a little table for the sewing machine. Private space.

A companion, a cat, a good mouser.

And friends too, of course, good neighbors. A porch under the eaves with comfy chairs. An open door and food to share. Public space.

That’s it, I think. That’s all.