Not For Realz (But For A Minute)

There's a part of me who wants to live somewhere else. Somewhere greener and quieter. Surrounded by mountains or at the border of the sea, on a green hill or in the middle of great big field. I imagine our life there as simple and beautiful. Polished wooden floors, chickens and chestnuts. Warm in the summer, cold in winter, exploring the seasons together. I probably knit. And ride horses (with red hair blowing in the wind). There's a creek close by and the children get wet all the time and have to hang their socks to dry in front of the fireplace. At this part of my fantasy I usually get back to my senses (you'd think that the hair blowing would do it, but no). When you look around and realize your stuck in Enid Blyton-land it's time to get moving.