Dream

It's a sunny home, a farmhouse without a farm, and in the backyard I have a twisted apple tree for baking pies.

The floors are old - wooden and polished - and I walk through the house barefoot carrying loads of laundry to dry on the line. I wear a t-shirt and faded jeans and my hair is a mess, but he looks up from repairing the worn dining room table and smiles at me as I wander past. He finds me most attractive in my simplicity and disarray.

We have two happy dogs and a weekend life all week. When the weather grows cold we drink mulled cider and read books in front of the fire. When the bread browning in the oven is done, we will sit on the floor and eat it with herbed butter, sharp cheese and ham.

This is my stock footage fantasy.