In one of my many unnecessary and unrealistic bouts of househunting I found this Louisiana plantation. I immediately almost cried and showed my husband, who immediately rolled his eyes as we were one month away from moving to NYC. When you see what I consider to be my dream home maybe you will understand why this island is so difficult to love.
Looking at this plays back faux memories in my mind. I can feel the breeze as I swing on the porch with a lemonade and watch my dog zooming across the grass; I can see my daughter and I having a picnic on a big blanket under the trees or my entire family at rounds under the market lights on a summer night.
I need a lot of downtime to feel at peace and I can picture that restful state in a yard like this. For now, I’ll look out my window to the incessantly honking traffic below and count the days until I can instead open it to the sound of rustling leaves.
