The Dream
It begins with a shared dream. A dream of having our own plot of land in the country. A plot of land in the place that tugs at our heart strings. A place where we can sit in rockers on the front porch or screened back porch. We'll watch the fireflies dancing along a pasture at twilight, become intoxicated by the honeysuckle on the evening air, and join the cricket and katydid symphony. A place where our own food is grown and our children can run wild.For us, that dream is taking work. We're 7 years in and plan on another 3 years if life continues to trek on the way it currently is.
I long to see a herd of goat in the pasture, wake to the sound of the rooster and have people gather around a bonfire. This dream has already been given a name. Whispering Oak Acres. Nothing sounds quite like the Oaks in Autumn as the breeze rustles the remaining leaves or the groan of the giants during the spring when the rain and winds pound with all their might.
