My imaginary farmhouse

When emailing with a Russian friend, whom I plan to visit next year, she showed me photos of some drop-dead gorgeous porcelain. What a soft spot she found.

Those who know me, know that I don't like owning things. If I did, I would have bought set after set of beautiful dishes and set magnificent tables with colourful cloths, candles, flowers. At the same time I adore the set of dishes Villeroy & Boch pattern I'd bought at a Maine outlet 36 years ago and shipped to my nest much too much to replace them. With an 18 sq.mt. nest, multiple sets would be impossible and just add to the clutter of life that I try and avoid. In fact if  I had a mansion, multiple sets would be too much and just too consumery...

I can satisfy my desire for beautiful things in my head.

For years I've had an imaginary farmhouse. It is located by a stream. A forest is behind the house, a cliff to one side and the garden to the left.



Because it's imaginary, the garden never needs weeding and produces the most wonderful fruits and veggies, especially strawberries, which explode with flavour in my mouth. And everything gets preserved for winter eating without my lifting my finger.

Never are their electrical, heating of plumbing problems. The house is always clean and ordered. Even though it seems away from civilization, just around the corner is a village, where each morning I can walk and smell the fresh baked bread from the boulangerie and buy fresh made mayonnaise for my egg salad sandwich for lunch.

The farmhouse has been furnished with all the beautiful furniture, paintings, sculptures that I've seen in the real world over the years. The pleasure has been in the seeing, not the buying.  I've told enough friends that when they spy something they know is my taste, they'll suggest it for the imaginary farmhouse.

Between my real home and my imaginary, I've the best of all the worlds.