Post Card Home

The other day a friend came over to do arty stuff. I served her a cup of tea, showed her our chickens and brought in some eggs, and when Morgan came home, gave her some home made ice cream. She looked at us and said, "You two are so domestic." A few years ago that comment might have been offensive. But today it feels good. My dad has said it a few times. He will call when I am making curtains, painting, or planting something. The thing is, its the house. Its just so lovely that all I want to do is be in or around it. Its perfect for making messes. The old hardwood floors with little worm holes carved into them will never look bad. The back yard is big and wild. I just looked out, and there is our perfect white duck cleaning himself by the pond, and our cat stalking something in the grass. The dogs are asleep in the bay window and all I can hear is the tick of the kitchen clock. Its like a hand painted post card from 1910, but with all the modern amenities. My studio is filled with Canvas and fabrics. The ocean air makes me think back to when I was little and living in Pismo. This is the first place I have ever lived where I have been able to keep plants, (other than succulents) alive. Sometimes I want to walk across the street just to dig my fingers into the sand and feel what it is like to be home.