Time out in "It's a Wonderful Place"

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Sometimes I like to play make-believe.  And in my make-believe . . .  I always live in my own little cottage at the end of a winding road, smack dab  in the middle of "It's a Wonderful Place."



All the windows and doors would be festooned with climbing roses and vines . . .  so inviting.   Passer's by would fall in love at first glance and wish that they could live there too.



"Come on in I would say," as I took my wellies off and stood them by the back door.   "I've just been to the garden and picked us a feast.  Come . . .  sit . . .  stay a while."



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And into the kitchen we would go.   The kettle would be boiling and I'd brew us up a nice hot cup of something refreshing and invigorating . . . perhaps some Lemon Balm Tea, using the leaves of lemon balm, picked fresh from the garden today.  


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And we would chat as we sat at my well worn table and nibbled on fresh and crumbly rock cakes and sweet berries, washed down with hot cups of tea . . .  while golden sunlight filtered through my lace curtained windows, bathing all in it's warm sweet light . . . 


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I'm sorry my petite Minette . . .  no rock cakes for you, but perhaps a bowl of cream later on if you are a very, very good girl . . .   your charms will not get you very far . . .

oh go on then, but just a smidgen . . .  a tiny crumb . . .


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Perhaps you would love to come out into my garden for a little wander about . . .  just to see what we've been working on?   Come . . . let us burn off some of the calories from those lovely rockcakes . . .


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Yes . . . you can come too, but do behave like the lady that I know you are and can be . . . 

How can I resist those little baby blues . . . tis impossible to do.   Could you?


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The garden is doing very well this year . . .  it is filled to overflowing with lots of greenery and beautiful blooms.  Perfect for cutting and placing into the many vases I keep around the cottage, bringing a just bit of the outdoors in . . .  for all to enjoy . . .




Don't you just love the smell of laundry that has been hung out on the line?   Me too . . .  me too . . .



Every corner delights and invites . . .


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There is a space for everyone and everything in my garden . . . little welcoming spots, small havens, for all creatures great and small . . .


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They all have their individual charms and give back far more than they take.   Joy.


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We wander and we chatter away for so long . . .  embracing the peace and the beauty of this day . . . that before we know it, the sun begins to sink in the sky.  Won't you stay for some supper I ask . . . and perhaps for the night?   How can you resist such an invitation.  You cannot of course . . . 

How could YOU ever put me out.  Tis impossible, truly impossible.  Me Casa Sous Casa . . .


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And we wander back through the trees . . . Todd has so kindly lit our way ahead of us.  No worries, they will burn themselves out before the morning comes.  No harm is done . . .  just magic.



At "It's a Wonderful Place," the evenings can get quite chilly oftimes.   That's because we like to sup by firelight . . .  the smell of burning applewood encircling the room, cosying it up . . . supping on a fine repast to the snap and crackle of the logs in the grate . . . soup and bread . . .  and cheese for afters . . .


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And then a relax and a chat in a big comfy chair . . . an evening spent in quiet and genteel conversation . . .

It's amazing how tired spending an afternoon out of doors wandering makes you . . . which room would you like to retire in for the night?  

 
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The rose room is quite cosy with a big fluffy bed . . .


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Then again, all the rooms are cosy and inviting.   This is my dream cottage after all . . .


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Shooo  . . . shooo . . .  Minou . . .  it's not for you!

I hope you sleep well . . .  guess what's for breakfast?



Lemon Curd Stuffed French Toast . . .  with fresh berries.  


Nighty night.   Sleep tight.

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