It's the kind of morning where sun is just starting to peak around the corners of the houses and birds are blithely chirping over their breakfasts and the warmth on their bellies.

Last night I allowed myself to entertain a vision of life in a few years. I was sitting on the porch with charlie smoking a tiny cigar in my sweatpants telling him about when we live on a farm on the west coast, and sit on our front porch in rocking chairs overlooking fields and fields of crops. Then he described, in avid detail, how to till a field and I pretended to listen, but really surveyed the landscape that falls out of my window.

I live in an apartment complex. Though they try to make some semblance of "community" in this grand complex, it will always be that for me. I'm proud to be who I am, have the parents that I do, come from Vermont.. but it has seriously hampered my ability to enjoy city spaces to their fullest. Because deep down, I know that before my housing complex sat on this land, there was a huge, beautiful, rolling field with wildflowers and wheat grass and a myriad of trees.

The breeze that's coming in right now is cool and refreshing... it smells like spring (though we're definitely half-way through July.. wait, when did that happen?!). The bird feeder is swaying and Leopold is on guard, ready to pounce on anything that comes this way (though he can't even catch flies when they buzz around the house, nervously looking for an exit, slowly dying) I have a dress that needs to be hemmed. That's what I'll pour my pre-work energy into now.