I want to live in an old farmhouse with a small barn out back.
On a plot of land with lots of hills and a view.
With enough seclusion that I could sit outside in my pjs.
I would like a cow and some chickens and possibly a goat.
But only a funny goat. One that yells like a human.
I want a piece of land that is so beautiful that I never head out of doors without a camera.
A property that keeps me gasping with joy over simple beauties.
A space with lots of trees and room for a garden too big to tame; one that yields lots of fat tomatoes and so many pumpkins that I can't pick 'em all.
I want to be close enough to town that it's not a decision to go fetch a book of stamps, but with enough wide open spaces that my neighbors can't hear my children bickering.
I want my old farmhouse to be just that: old.
But completely remodeled.
Not remodeled in the sense that all the details are lost, but remodeled in a way that I have more than 1 square foot of counter space in the kitchen and every flipping' floor board doesn't squeak.
It doesn't have to be fancy, just functional.
I want a big tree with a tire swing.
I want a hammock.
I want a sunroom.
I want lots of windows.
I want dirt bikes and four wheelers to explore our hills.
I want a grand fire pit.
I feel kinda selfish typing "I want, I want, I want," but I don't think my list is too outrageous.
Sean and I have made a habit out of taking back roads lately. Ohio is full of old farmhouses. We get to imagining ourselves settled. Eventually, when this military fun is over.
With all the backroad, Sunday drives, I've turned geriatric. Further evidenced by my amazon wish list. Nothing but kitchen appliances! It's fun to dream. One day, I'll have a big, non-galley style, country kitchen. With a giant island perfect for baking bread and chocolate chip cookies.