A new home is a sketchpad of possibilities. Strip back the has been of the house and there’s a wealth of could be.
Of course the could be is restricted by practicalities, but why spoil the fun of the process by imagining those too early. We’ll not spoil the fun.
The mystery of what could be lies in empty spaces, the canvas upon which our fingers will write the morrow. The canvas is a panoramic dream of abundance shared with guests and visitors in the nooks and crannies of our souls. We imagine laughter, play, experimentation and a journey toward a new way of being.
The reverie never dies but takes form, moulded by the demands of lived needs, observation and the slow plods of change. From extremely felt cold to its opposite extreme, the canvas is filled with merging priorities, distracting, but necessary moments towards the painting before us.
Between the necessaries are the wanna be. The smallest of alterations, achieved in an hour with a spade, colour the blank slate with glimmers of the could be. A new nook within which the discerning guest can simply be. The discovery of something before unseen opens a realm of opportunity: a new colour to add to the canvas of the could be. We’re beginning to add a few drops to the masterpiece, but it might be some years before the could be becomes an is.
It is how I like it. I’m watching the daisies.