Wednesday, January 14, 2015
succulents, gardens, and my dreamworld.
I have this dream in my mind where I live in an airy, white farmhouse. It is situated on a large-but-not-too-large piece of land, nestled somewhere in the middle of the mountains. It's almost always raining in this dream, the natural light streams through the windows, I am enjoying a cup of tea, wearing a flowing, white dress (to match the white farmhouse?), there is a brick chimney, and there's something delicious bubbling on the stove. I am looking out a large, paned window onto my well-tended garden. My garden is full of many, many things — vegetables, fruits, flowers (ranunculus and daisies, please), and regardless of the season, it all grows just fine.
And in this dream, there were never really succulents present. That is, until we visited Jeffrey's grandparents' home and I saw the beauty and majesty of a yard overgrown with succulents. In my real life, I've had plenty of small, potted succulents, and I've loved each of them dearly, but it wasn't until I saw them growing in vast quantities that they became a part of my dream garden. And now, when I imagine this dreamworld, I see the succulents, too. And of all these things growing in my garden live in perfect harmony. And since it's a dream, they probably grow and survive without so much as a wink and a nod on my end.