Glemel Glade

On my long travels through the Weary Wood, I came across a glade. With only half a loaf of bread, and a cup of cold soup left in my backpack, it was although the universe had answered my desperate wishes. Right in the middle of the green space, was a giant mount of dirt covered in lush grass. The mound of dirt had two circular windows, framed with wonky wooden panes, as well as a great big wooden door (which happened to be in the shape of a circle, too). You could see that the whole thing was made by hand, by its slightly too-long or too-short materials, the stout chimney that was missing a few bricks, or by the variety in size of windows. But that’s what made it all so charming.

Outside the mound, sat a table and chairs – fit for only two – just outside the door. A notebook, pen, and a half-full cup of coffee lie unattended. I had not had a warm beverage in a few days, and the quaint scene was all too tempting – I had to see who lived inside.

I walked toward the small home, with gentle footsteps (so as not to alarm the bunnies that hopped freely around my feet), and knocked on the wooden door.

“Oh look, boys. A visitor.” A timid voice whispered from behind me.

I turned around, and to my surprise, a young couple stood a few feet in front of me. I am not sure who I expected to live there, but it certainly wasn’t them. The woman carried a wicker basket full of herbs and wildflowers, and the man carried a camera and picnic basket. A few seconds later, a clumsy, floppy-eared puppy came bounding around the corner and bashed straight into my shins.

“Uh, hi! Sorry for the intrusion.” I said, whilst rubbing my shins. “I’ve been hiking through the Wood for about a week now. I saw your beautiful home, and curiosity got the better of me.”

“Honestly, don’t worry about it!” She casually flicked her hand at me and winked. “My name is Jenny, and this is my partner, Archie.”

The brown and black puppy barked and ‘playfully’ clawed at my feet.

“Sorry about Dudley. He’s definitely the social one out of the three of us.” Archie said.

I awkwardly chuckled, trying not to expose my deep-rooted fear of four legged, barking creatures. It was a fear that caused other people to be slightly suspicious of me.

“Come on in,” Jenny said, using her shoulder to push open the front door. “This is made from real walnut by the way.” She proudly whispered.

The interior was nothing short of marvellous, and exceptionally different to the town house that I currently resided in. It was as if someone had pulled the image from the brain of my younger self.

In the front, two, tattered arm chairs, with a dogs bed squeezed between, faced a fireplace. To the right, there was a reading nook, fit for a studious hobbit. Two wooden bookcases, full to the brim, sat in the corner and towered over the rest of the room. My favourite part of it all was the circular window sill, adorned with pillows, inviting a sleepy soul to lie down for an afternoon read.

In the other corner, large walnut countertops with unfinished edges framed the kitchen. Dried up garlic bulbs and chilli’s hung from the ceiling. A tall, copper pot sat atop the stove, letting out puffs of steam that filled the room with the woody scent of rosemary.

Next to the kitchen, a short, winding staircase led up to the (extremely small) balcony bedroom. It was simply a double bed, and two end tables with lamps.

“Would you like to stay for supper? Archie’s making vegetable stew.” Jenny asked, kicking off her tan brogues.

“I don’t want to be a bother, really.” I said, smiling politely.

“No bother,” Archie said. “I always make too much for the both of us, anyway.”

“He’s always conjuring up new recipes, and taking photos for his website,” Jenny said, beaming. “Great news for me, because I can just sit around and taste scrumptious food all day.”

“Don’t let her fool you, she is a published writer.” He kissed Jenny on the cheek.

“That is so cool.” I stared at the couple in admiration.

“So, you’ll stay?” Archie said.

“Sure. Why not.”