The cool breeze of the North Florida woods lightly lifts the ivy from the window sills as I mix the granola.
Masala has to be lifted by a levy these days; his arthritis prevents him from making it up the stairs.
Like always, we backpack the cats up. There are just two these days.
The parrot, Emmett, comes up in his little "travel cage."
Tom and I, with cracking knees, hardly make it up without injury.
But, when we settle in, warm blankets all about, the futon bed we carried up years ago in the corner; we read (our e-readers replacing our bags of paperbacks from days past) and drink our chai or coffee in front of the little wood stove.
We can bathe in the light of the waning moon as it shines through the panes of glass above. Later, the stars, in the darkened sky, are like a magical show above.
Enjoy your daydreams about treedreams.