Wednesday, May 28, 2014

The House

I'd take that corner out, smooth the edges. Knock the ceiling higher and clean the stairs. Rip out extra useless features and streamline that space between floor and wall. Redo the floor in hardwood, seamless. Windows open into extended patios, stairs to the roof where the deck awaits, vines growing over the whole area, making groves where tarpaper once was. Drain pipes leading right to the garden, grey water flowing back into the soil. Front door opens onto the street where friends can find us sipping tea and reading comics, can come up and join us, bringing with them juice and bagels.
    I have a room with a door and a window, the window is large and opens well, letting summer breezes rustle my papers. The door lets me in and invites others out when I need to work, otherwise sit on the daybed and chat with me while I sort through some details. My room has a desk in it, grande with cubby holes and pigeon holes and drawers for my things. One walls is lined with bookcases filled with my precious volumes, my tattered research materials and my collage piles. Another wall keeps my jars and collections. Filing cabinets keep my papers, my mock-ups and my manuscripts. I think I'll get a small table here so we can sit together and collaborate. Clients can visit and we can discuss projects.
    There is an altar in this room spilling with the objects that inspire me, it's near the window and gets dusting often enough.
    The kitchen leads into the garden of course, herbs abounding and vegetables a step away. There is a brook nearby leading to the lake. She goes swimming every morning.