A Wisconsin Paradise

This is a description of a summer home I used to go to.


1. A Wisconsin Paradise

A golden dog lays on the brick porch. A fly, two bees and a wasp zoom around her head, but she sleeps on. Bees hum in their hives. They make honey, filling up their home. The honey already smells amazing, and is ready to be collected and put on a peanut butter and honey sandwich. Chickens cluck in their pen, ready for food.

Under the bed, a clumpy, old cat lounges next to two clear, plastic buckets full of extra sheets. Its yellow eyes flicker in the light. Down the hall, Aunt Sue perches at her desk full of papers, and Unccle Dave lounges on the couch, watching Jeopardy. In the guest room sits an old sewing machine, dust covering its plastic.

Outside the house, in the woods, is a porta-potty, smelling like waste and lime air freshener. Going on far into the forest is a wild raspberry patch, its berries delicious, and fresh. In the yard is an above ground pool, which Dave puts together every summer. Its waters are still, except for a small ripple caused by a falling bee.


The smell there is different for every part of the land. In some parts, it is the smell of of ripe, juicy raspberries that draws everyone right there. It could be the wafting smell of hot off the stove pancakes, with the freshly picked raspberries inside. They might smell chickens, or maybe their feed, just placed for breakfast, but already completely gobbled up.


The dirt road leading through the bright woods to the yurt is quiet, except for the slight rumbling of a visiting red truck dragging a white boat with blue sparkles lining it. Many trails meet the yard leading far into the woods. One leads to a great, big, tree. Leaning against it is a giant ladder, coming to a hunting platform with a shotgun and some old candy wrappers.

And out of all of the acres they own, every bit of it is beautiful.

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