Almost perfect. Need a river nearby rushing over boulders. May I please use your scene?
Thanks (assuming it’s fine with you, as long as we don’t occupy it at the same time, and promising that if I see you coming, I’ll split),
-Another
WARNING: Overly sentimental post ahead
My happy place is anywhere I can be with my 17-month old daughter. No matter how much my work day has sucked, when I walk into the room and she runs over to me with her arms raised yelling “Dad-dee, dad-dee”, my troubles disappear.
Other than that, there’s this town in North Ontario…
I relax in a bubble bath with candles and wine. I do some of my best thinking there and its both physically and mentally relaxing.
I also love listening to that song You Don’t Own Me from the First Wives Club. I turn it up loud and dance around singing it.
My old happy places are gone now.
I’m working on new ones.
Something with a pine forest ending on a white sandy beach that fronts a freshwater lake that receeds as far as the eye can see and sitting next to me a beautiful someone whom I just haven’t met yet.
And just enough breeze to keep the bugs off.
Once a year I visit my cousin Milan. He has a house in Pennsylvania with a good chunk of land bordered by a small stream. I sit on the deck in the back under the grape arbors and look out over the garden while drinking his homemade wine and the latest delicacies he has brought back from Europe or made in his smokehouse. Someday I want that kind of retreat on my home.
My current happy place is a cabin in the woods. A nice fire, a comfy quilt on the big bed, and it’s snowing.
It used to be on a boat in a backwater cove somewhere. (Even though I don’t sail.) It varies with my mood really.
-Rue.
A small, but well-appointed, island about 100 miles east-southeast of Tahiti. Unbelievably blue water in the lagoon, a beach with the waves gently lapping at the shore. The breeze carries the smell of tropical flowers, and the air is languid and warm. The little house is whitewashed, with blue walls inside and simple furniture. A big bed sits before opened French doors that look out over the beach. Fruit, and wine, and good bread, is available if I want it. Susan is there. We have everything we need or could want. It is about 4:30 in the afternoon, and after a long walk on the shore we’re laying in bed watching our corner of the world.
That’s my happy place.
Dawn, at anchor in a quiet, sheltered place - probably on the Chesapeake, tho it could be in the Carribbean. I love waking up on the boat at anchor - hearing the water lapping against the hull, going up on deck and watching the day being born. Still water broken by fish jumping. A little mist. Pink light filling the sky… Better still if I’m with a certain someone…
At any Gypsy Soul concert.
On the lifeguard tower in Newport Beach, CA, near the end of Superior Avenue at sunset.
Pizza Hut. Lunchtime.
In the grassy field up from the corner of Luster St. and Shady Glen, on the hill, under the tree, in Springfield, MO.
Grand Canyon. South Rim. Sunrise.
[sub](insert comment about about turning south at my belly button here)[/sub]
Sure thing, Another Primate. I’m not too keen on the idea of the river, though…can we make it a brook in the woods almost out of earshot? Just throwing out suggestions.
How did you know? I have always wanted a great big wildcat as a pet… they are so beautiful and so… big and dangerous.
If I ever saw one loose, I would get totally killed because I would be running up to it going “kitty!”
Top of a mountain, miles of Earth in sight, all around. Powder falling gently all around. Down, hundreds or thousands of yards below, the glow of a fire in a cabin, smoke rolling gently out of a chimney.
Mostly, it’s the minute crackle of powder and snow falling.
In her arms, in our bed, listening to her heartbeat.