stolen moment

thankful sage farm school

one day, i am going to have a shop. my shop will have antiques from around the world. simple ones. useful ones. it will have honey from my hives. and soaps, made from said honey. candles dipped in pairs in a big cauldron on crisp autumn days, with cider, friends and woodsmoke. it will have walls full of flower pots and plates that i designed. antique silver utensils. piles of handwoven blankets. only the best cookbooks. handmade furniture from local artisans, and old ladderbacks and windsors in various states of decay. pretty chicken feeders next to ticking pillows, next to petticoats, for me and fellow gals taking back our tough lady roles.  heirloom seeds with my name in them, ones that i harvested from an old daisy or potato that just doesn't grow anymore, something i can save for my daughters daughter. i will have classes on the long table that runs down the center of the store, on pickling, on thoughtful gardening, on pies, and community suppers at the end of each season. creaky wood floor, or maybe a painted green mexican tile. orkney chairs and a dressmakers table for the check out area. a book rack with books that i have written, about how we used to live. there, its on paper. i have to do it now.

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