Perhaps it's due to the frequency of which I listen to Hispanic music, or the cold, cloudy spring weather outside my office window. Maybe it's the sharp, clean lines of the MOA that make my heart yearn for something more rustic, or the white snow on the mountain reflecting gray skies that invite my eyes to seek warmth, both in color and climate. Sitting here, listening to the sounds of the Spanish guitar playing on Pandora, I am dreaming.
I need this one day:
A colonial hacienda with warm spaces and colors.
Where only the earth mutes obscenely bold hues.
Where siesta is respected because one has been working all morning.
Animals in the pasture, plants sprouting, and water trickling.
Tall ceilings.
Interesting Spanish-colonial architecture.
Space to entertain.
Grand entrances...
and blue skies.
One day...
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