There are trees... lots of trees. Old oak trees maybe? With a tire swing on one of them.
When you walk inside you hear laughter. Your instantly filled with the aroma of something sweet and the spice of cinnamon. There is warm apple pie on the counter and you help yourself. There is freshly brewed coffee next to it.
You take a seat at an old oak table with barley twisted legs. You look around and old old mason jars are all around the kitchen. Some might even have candles in them.
You walk into the living room and take a seat on a comfortable couch, pull up a knit throw, because this house lives where it's cold. You can hear the crackle from the fire place. I'll bring you some hot wassle if you want. There is some old big band music playing on a record player. The TV is hidden away in a solid oak entertainment center.... only used for foot ball games, movie nights, and the morning news.
When you look out the window (which is a straight shot from the couch) you might mountains that are covered in snow. You'll at least see snow covered trees.
The Sun is almost set.
You'll stay up into the evening playing cards and just talking. Talking about anything. You'll drink more wassle.
Everyone will finally decide to retire to bed.
You'll arise to the smell of fresh coffee and the smell of breakfast. Maybe it's jelly rolls made from scratch, or bacon and eggs. But there will be breakfast. Everyone will squeeze around the old oak table in the kitchen and say grace.
We'll go outside until our toes turn blue and we have to come inside. We'll unbundle and warm up by the fireside. Play an old record maybe? Have some soup?
We'll be out again later.
This house is away from the city. It's away from everything and everyone too busy to stop and enjoy life. It's less complicated of a place. It's beautiful.
Sure it's a little too much of a dream, but what's wrong with being a dreamer?