I grew up in the kind of small Oregon town where we spent summers blissfully riding our bikes to the market for ice cream, learning to drive by doing donuts in the field behind the house, and falling asleep to the sound of crickets drifting in through the open window. But during teenage years filled with muddy handprints and camping gear, I recognized that — while I deeply loved those things — I also daydreamed of love stories, delicate flower petals, and lace.