I'm building a magical treehouse in my back garden...minus the trees, but with a few extra helpings of magic.
My crew has been incredibly patient with me. As soon as the framework was standing, I started begging to add twinkly lights. They sweetly asked me to wait until they were finished.
I have grand plans. Lanterns hanging from the eaves and surrounding trees, mixed in with garlands of lights and more lights and even more. My yard at night will no longer need the moon.
This will be my art studio, my writer's garret, and space for all things creative. With a desk I can get dirty, oils and acrylics and canvases I will finally use, my starter-collection of vintage typewriters as decor and inspiration, the smell of turpentine and tea, and just enough space to get up and dance if a willing partner visits.
And I want visits. I crave them. I love when my house is full of laughter and music and impromptu dancing in the middle of good ingredients. I wish the same for my studio.
I'm already dreaming of how I'll christen my new space. Something like how new boat owners offer a bottle of the finest champagne to the boat and the gods of the sea. Have any ideas for me?
I'll offer a vibrant red to the gods who look after artists, whiskey to the gods of words, and make damn sure I've got something wonderful for the goddess of love.
I want her to feel very comfortable in my studio.
Cheers to a weekend that deserves a christening all its own. And twinkly lights. Crack open some champers and raise a glass to creativity! I'll do the same. Until next week...