Friday 4 September 2009

On books and dreams.

Books have been as constant to me as doing some kind of handwork, as constant and as fascinating.From the moment I could read the written word, and possibly before I was absolutely smitten. That I have embroidery books is a given. That I have knitting and crochet books is a given. That I have many many novels is a given. (That I need more of all of these, is also sadly a given.)

What I have never really understood is why my library includes so many of those mysterious publications full of house floor plans. I'm not going to be building a house any time soon. I'm not even going to be building a house any time far from now. I don't have the stamina.

I'm pretty sure I don't buy these. That would imply intent, and there really isn't any intent. It just happens. I'd like to think the book fairies put them on my shelf for me to discover in the morning. Or maybe the faeries toss them into my baskets when I stray to close to the book aisle at the drug store and grocery store. Nonetheless, every so often I find a new one, and it comes home with me.

For years, particularly in the very small farm house, I dreamed of grander places, more space, better basements. I liked to play 'if I lived there'. I dreamed of grand McMansions and spaces filled with beautiful things, but now I'm more likely to look at all the nooks and crannies and rooms and wonder how many hours would it take to clean. My dreams are still filled with floor plans, but the plan I would choose is very different now.

Some people find dreaming of what they don't have makes them sad and sorry for what they do have. Not me. Dreaming, taking a few minutes to lose myself in the pages of a book, or a movie or a bunch of floor plans is just a way to wander through another story, and visit for a spell. Its just a little vacation in an otherwise very settled sort of life.

Like the best part of any vacation, coming home, putting on your schlepping slippers (try saying that fast) and the comfortable pants and sleeping in your own bed on your own pillow is a relief. So it is with floor plans. I can dream of McMansions and fine, epic spaces but I get to come back to my cozy warm home.

At least the house will feel warm and cozy if I get some more socks knit up before the cold comes.

2 comments:

Mrs. Spit said...

I have, for some reason a book on modern sewer design, and a book on building a log cabin. . .

I think it's the book fairies.

Sigrun said...

I agree--those kinds of books always bring me back to reality appreciating what I have.