Many years ago, when I was barely a woman I dreamed of a boat shed. It was white with the natural wood peaking through the flaked imperfections, the story of time told upon its face. It was a hat of sorts, that shed, for it perched above an inlet, naturally. Within however, was not quite what one would expect... there was a boat for sure, the kind that loved both rivers and ocean. Yet it had tall and arching windows to each wall save the front, the glass stained in various hues, each a scene from a child's picture book. It was a happy place that boat shed... if that is what it was... dreams can be so funny that way.
The boat shed was a sort of bridge over troubled water, only we sheltered beneath its eaves and it was the birthplace of so many great adventures for the two of us.
That boat shed was the cocoon for every butterfly adventure we ever had. We were river-rats and proud of our self declared title.