In the quiet corners of our digital archives, memories lie dormant—
the tiniest of seeds planted in the fertile soil of our imagination.
Do you ever scroll through your old Pinterest boards? I did the other day. I came across my "Tiny Homes" inspiration board while doing a digital detox to consider deleting old boards that may not be needed any longer.
Suddenly there it was, the Coho Cottage. Mr. Ross Chaplin's creation—a whimsical fusion of wood and wonder that captured my heart back in 2009. Its walls whispered of cozy evenings of reading by the wood-burning stove, warm breezy mornings on the porch, and moon views from a gable window. I used to picture myself there as a part of its story, weaving my own chapters into its timbered frame.
But life has a way of nudging us toward unexpected paths, doesn’t it?
When the time came to choose a home, practicality won over whimsy. A brick 3-2-2
starter home became the best choice and my cottage dreams faded into the
background, gathering digital dust.
Then today—a serendipitous moment when pixels and nostalgia
collided. There it was, the little red cottage, resurfacing like a long-lost friend and in a moment of clarity, it dawned on me that the essence of the Coho cottage was mirrored in the charm of my Okie Blue Bungalow. My heart fluttered when I saw the similarities: bold colors met crisp white fascia and trim, gables stood confident each with three steadfast planks, and that enchanting front
porch that beckons us to sit a spell.
Is it mere coincidence, or something more? Some call it manifesting—the
art of creating reality from desire. Or perhaps God gave me a gift by weaving threads
of familiarity into my memory when I was house hunting in 2022. Either way, my home now stands as a testament to the magic of reverie.
And I’ve realized that dreams, even forgotten ones, find their way.
So, my dear reader and dreamer, keep pinning your hopes and writing your lists. For who knows which ones await rediscovery and perhaps, just beyond the next scroll, lies one that has come to fruition which at one time you thought you could only have dreamed for.
The tapestry of a home is woven with the threads of dreams once whispered to the night sky. - silver trumpets