The French Make Funny Jazz

Today is happy with a chance of grinning. Increased sunny outlook with a high of plus positive and zero chance of precipitation. Even if it rains, our guaranteed low is snuggling with a good book and a doggie.
When I grow up, I want a cottage on a lake where I can invite my friends to take care of them for a little while. I want a haven filled with old quilts, a lot of great books, ridiculous board games, fishing equipment, a fire pit, an incredible kitchen, and really comfortable beds. Skinny dipping, and acoustic guitars, and good wine, and arts and crafts with things found in the woods. No power boats, no television, no loud neighbors.
If you came to visit, you would be greeted with great music, and a nice glass of whatever you like. You would unload your bags, and there would be pretty little snacks for grazing. Something would be chilling in the fridge near the dock, and your chair and towel would be set up. I’d have a stack of books and magazines selected with you in mind, and something delicious would be marinating for the grill later.
There would also be chocolate fondue.
After supper, there would be a huge fire, and quiet time counting the stars, and you would be full of peace. The air would be crisp and cool, and I would have extra sweaters if you needed one. They would all smell like lavender.
I’d sing you songs under the stars, and if you knew the words you could join in.
We’d each make a few wishes.
You would sleep better than you have in years, listening to all of the magical sounds that the woods make, and you would wake up with the sun to the smell of coffee and bacon. And loons. The sound of loons makes my heart sing.

4 thoughts on “The French Make Funny Jazz

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