I have purposefully put my office and writing nook on the second floor.

In this state with so few trees – and the ones we have are not be full, lush, towering beauties of Northern climes – this room looks out over a large live oak tree in the front yard.

Light filters in through white sheer curtains, further occluding the view of the suburb I live in.

I go upstairs to escape – escape noise, stress, and people. I escape this populated area I live in. For me, it’s my modified tree house.

My dream is to live in a small home on several acres. I want to cultivate my own vegetables and fruits, and I want chickens. I want long country lanes to walk, where the weeds grow tall, and the butterflies and dragonflies dip in and out of the wild flowers.

In the mean time, I’m blessed to have a two story home, where a walk up the stairs can transport me out of the cultured lawns of the neighborhood. When I look out, I see branches unpruned. I watch squirrels chase each other, hopping from branch to branch. Where rain showers are loud on the roof above my head, and dip the oak leaves down, to bounce up and wait for the next plop of water.

It brings clarity of mind, when I can’t escape the humid grip of endless summers in suburbia. A cool color palate and soothing decor in the room also help to calm my soul.

Now that my mind is clear, untroubled, and I’m breathing in this portal to nature, I’m ready to write.

I’m ready to go where my imagination takes me.