Ever since we were dating (and probably even before that, just separately) Kip and I have dreamed of buying an old farmhouse on a few acres and renovating it. It's been an idea that's taken hold of us, keeping us up at night with ideas and plans and scenario-rehearsing. Kip wants wooded land, the kind that he can make walking trails in, where he can go for a hike and not leave our tidy little world. I dream of a little clearing behind the house where I can plant a tiny orchard, just big enough for Ainslie and I to walk through in the afternoons, where I can spot a perfectly ripe apple and reach up and pick it, wiping it on my shirt sleeve before handing it down to Ainslie, who relishes its sweetness and giggles at the juice running down her chin. I want to invite our family and friends over for a day when all the fruit is ripe and enjoy a harvest together, tossing our homegrown produce into baskets and walking up to the house together where the kitchen quickly becomes steamy and crowded with baking pies and cooking preserves and the people making them all, and then we all have a big dinner together, and Kip and I thank everyone for their help and send them home with the literal fruits of their labor. We want the creaky floors and the drafty windows that we're always cursing in a house that has seen so many more tenants than just us, a house that we have to get to know, and vice versa.
Hopefully we'll get there soon. In the meantime, we dream.