Sometimes, when the world feels heavy and the noise of life grows too loud, I slip into a daydream. Not just any daydream—it’s my heart’s true calling, my wish, my wild and whimsical hope.
What I really want is to become local folklore.
Imagine it: a weathered stone cottage perched on a cliff, overlooking the endless blue of the ocean. Salt clings to the air, and wildflowers bloom in every color, weaving around the windows and doorway like nature’s embrace. The waves crash rhythmically against the rocks below, singing a song older than time.
Barefoot, I step outside, my toes sinking into the cool, golden sand. I greet the morning with a steaming cup of coffee pressed warmly between my hands, the sea breeze tangling my hair and carrying whispers of far-off places. A tide pool glistens nearby, teeming with tiny, magical worlds that mirror the vastness of the ocean itself.
Inside the cottage, my world is one of magic and wonder. Shelves brimming with books fill my library, their worn spines and yellowed pages holding stories, secrets, and spells. An apothecary lines another room, with jars of sea glass, dried seaweed, and tinctures neatly arranged—each one a tiny universe of healing and enchantment.
A sunlit conservatory adjoins the cottage, bursting with greenery and blooms. It’s my haven of growth and renewal, a place where the line between land and sea blurs, and miracles feel as natural as the tide.
Every morning, a beach chicken named Gizmo visits, perching on my windowsill with feathers that shimmer like the light on water. Gizmo, along with a few cheeky pelicans, brings me whispers of the world, secrets carried on the wind and waves. These gifts are sacred treasures, shared between the ocean’s magic and me.
I am no ordinary woman here; I am a friend of the sea spirits, bound by ancient tides and sacred pacts with the merfolk who guard this stretch of coast. At night, I dance with my lover beneath a sky of infinite stars, the moonlight painting silver trails on the waves. Together, we laugh and spin, wild and free, our joy as eternal as the ocean itself.
People come to my little sanctuary seeking the peace only the sea can offer. They sit by the water’s edge, letting the crashing waves soothe their restless souls. I open my heart to listen, and they leave lighter, carrying with them a touch of the magic that lives here.
My life is simple yet profound. It’s a symphony of connection—to the sea, to my family, to the unseen threads of wonder that weave through all things. The ocean is my community, the sun my clock, and the tides my guide. I don’t just live here; I belong here.
For now, this cottage lives in my heart, on Pinterest boards, and in the small steps I take each day. A new tincture here, another plant there, more stories read and more dreams whispered. My apothecary grows, my heart stays open, and the birds—well, they’re still whispers of hope passed on by my cats and sometimes Gizmo!
But maybe, just maybe, this dream isn’t so far away. Perhaps one day, as I inch closer to my goals, I’ll wake up to find myself truly living the life I’ve imagined.
And who knows? Maybe someday, someone will sit by the sea, telling the story of a woman who became the heart of the coast—a tale passed down through generations until I truly become the local folklore I’ve always dreamed of being.
Much love, Candace.
All photos featured in this post are taken by Vanessa Mayberry. Please visit her website.
