#simblrsidequest

📍Chestnut Ridge 🐟 #DreamspaceForaging #NoFishOnlyBeans #SimblrSideQuest

Woke up to the smell of sun-warmed grass and Monet trying to eat a bug. Collected a good bit of prairie grass from the ridge. Sold it for just enough to cover dinner and a little dignity.

Wandered the land today—hands in the dirt, eyes to the wild. Picked up bits and pieces of the old stories buried in the brush: stones shaped like hearts, feathers curled like question marks.

Stopped by the park near sundown. Tried to fish. Didn’t catch a thing. The river just blinked at me like, "Not today, witch."

Made franks and beans over a fire. Burned them a little. Ate them anyway. Sat near the embers with my journal and wrote: “Some days, the magic is just showing up. Just feeding yourself. Just keeping the fire lit.”

Home was quiet when I got back. The stars felt like company. Monet curled beside me. Grace snored. And I felt… good.

Not full. But warm.

📍Chestnut Ridge, Lot: Edge of the Wild 👣 #SimblrSideQuest #DreamspaceBuild #AstridSatterlee

Started with §0. Just me, the easel, and Grace curled up by my feet. Monet ran circles around a firefly and then fell asleep in the long grass.

Painted my first piece today: a splash of sky and memory. Sold it for enough to buy seeds and a secondhand journal. This is how we begin. Color in the cracks. Joy in the waiting.

Tonight, I sleep under stars that don’t yet know my name. But soon, they will.

Entry One: The Land Remembers Me

I arrived with nothing but the wind at my back and a half-burned journal in my bag. The map I followed? Scribbled in the margins of dreams I barely remember. This land… it hums. The trees lean a little closer when I speak. The air tastes like memory.

I slept beneath the stars last night—no roof, no walls, just sky. Grace (the stray cat who’s decided I belong to her now) curled up at my feet, and Monet the little white dog made a nest in a patch of moss. The world was silent, except for the soft chorus of crickets and the crackle of my small fire.

This morning I pulled three carrots from the wild soil and traded them in town for seeds and a used easel. My fingers are stained green. It feels like beginning again.

The Dreamspace isn’t built yet, but I can feel it waiting, like a story half-told.