A Tiny Place Called Home
My soul is drawn to cabins. Cabins in the woods. I often wonder about those seemingly abandoned little huts along the trails of the Santa Monica mountains. Why are they empty? Who lived there? Star-crossed lovers? A compact family? Escaped convicts?
Maybe it's the teeny writer inside that wants an unassuming place. Or maybe it's the chaos of the city that propels me toward a world that's more quiet and quaint.
I could also just be tired of cleaning my house. When you're the primary picker upper, less feels like more.
I thought you might appreciate a tiny glimpse of three dream spaces. When you click on an image, you'll be transported to the story behind the home. Enjoy!