Seul et heureux.

Yesterday, while J. was hard at work on the computer, I read The Perfect Garden by Andrew Seccull and planned out my garden of cox's orange pippin apple trees, hybrid blackberries, strawberries, gooseberries, rocket & butterhead lettuce, carrots, raddish, turnips & beetroots, sweet peas (lathyrus odoratus), rouge de marmande tomatoes, shasta daisies, nasturtiums & forget-me-nots.
Was feeling a little sleepy and almost drifted away to my herb garden just beside the vegetable plot, and me plucking rocket leaves to toss inside my salad bowl, slouching in front of the teevee, for a good Oprah Winfrey/ Ellen Degeneres hour or two. After teevee, I could cycle my city bike down to the local creamery for some freshly made ice cream (hazlenut and vanilla are my favourites) or pack a picnic to the beach nearby with friends and hopefully, fly my kite, all dressed up in my sun dress and a sweater. Then I'll come home, finish up some homework, sleep early and prepare for school the next day.

I would probably be something like Miss Honey, from Matilda by Roald Dahl, and live in a pretty little house alone. I'm contemplating, how many chances in a lifetime, will I be truly able to live like this, before I turn sixty.

Half my heart's in Oregon already.