It’s a sadness in my life that I have little innate talent for design or decorating. I wish I had a magic wand to take my dreams of cozy spaces out of my head and brush them over the world. Or I could just take a walk:
Next to this al fresco scene sits the Most Fantastic Camper In the History Of Ever And I Mean Ever:(In English parlance, this is a Bespoke [custom] Caravan [camper]). I did not check the price. Dreams are priceless, after all.
Next to the adult caravan is this beyond adorable child’s playhouse. I’m trying to imagine these two spaces set up next to a silver shinning lake or babbling sparkling brook, with perfect birdsong, perfect fire-cooked meals, perfect flower arrangements, perfect light for reading or painting or swimming or finding mystical swords or whatever one might do in a ridiculous perfect world. I assume the chamber pot would empty itself. Maybe it would sing a tune.
These stop and smell the roses moments brought to you via the Applestore at Batsford Arboretum, and Riverside Shepherds Huts. (Shepherds Huts? Are you kidding me? That’s the most elegant name that could be designed for these fractures of sugarplum dreams? Maybe it’s ironic.)