I dream of rainy days, grey skies, and biking through mud puddles with precipitation speckled on my glasses.
I long for the smell of liquid sky on concrete. The jingle of a coffee shop door and the whine of my favorite espresso machine. My pen pausing for a sip of the bitter love from a hand-warming mug.
I've been trained up well. Throw me in a farmer's market and I can find my way around just fine. I can spot a local restaurant just a bike ride away. My wardrobe tests positive for precipitation antibodies in the form of rain jackets and knee-high rubber boots. They're my first line of defense.
Take me back to the state of local kale, moss, and alternative transportation.
This dry, snowy place is only temporary. Soon I'll trade snotsickles for damp hair. Snowflakes for raindrops. My home for my home home.
p.s. check out the first of my series of monthly contributions to tinyhomes.com here!