Caravan Dreams...

Gypsy caravans.  Quaint in structure, and adorned with detailed carvings and paint.  They have always held a sense of mystery and mysticism, the mental image of a shawl draped woman gazing into a ball of crystal a common mental conjuration.  Another image the caravan calls up is a camp fire, the chaotic shadows of dancers flickering over the wagons face, violin music thrumming through the air.  Products of the cinema?  I admit, films from the days of the Silver Screen put those stereotypical images in my head, but there is an excitement about them.  An energy.

I discovered a few images of Caravans while looking for something else online.  The artistic nature of them sparked a node of creativity in me.  I abandoned my other quest, and delved further finding more of the quaint wagons.  Ideas started to come to me.  Ideas about what a great personal space a caravan would be.  A small world to create in.  An adult playhouse, so to speak.  I found photographs of caravans people had parked in their yards, and set up as a guest house.  I found a site in the UK where they listed caravans for sale, some with bowed roofs, others with a squared roof.  They aren't cheap, but it would be an investment.  An investment in ones' self.

More and more pictures surfaced, of both exteriors and interiors.  The photos pulled me in more and more.  I think it's safe to say that I am a woman obsessed.  There are not many things on my list of things I really want, but I have now added one more thing to my short list.  Once I am in a place where space allows, I want to own a caravan.  I want a Gypsy Caravan that I can build a garden around, and turn into a haven of creativity.  A space to write in.  To paint in.  To carve out my little corner of Wonderland, giant mushroom and hookah smoking caterpillar optional...

I can at least dream, can't I?