I love your descriptions and connections to the outdoors, and I’m glad to have you in my inbox again. But I honestly have mixed feelings about the porosity. My dad’s cabin across the road from the early 1970s, where my brother lives, is charming and funky but too porous in my view. Dust from the dirt road floats in, flies buzz inside, mice are ever present, and it’s cold in winter. Our home is more airtight, and when the house shudders from the force of wind and snow storms, I’m grateful for the walls’ protection and the windows’ tight seals. Our cats don’t go outside because they’d kill birds or be killed by the coyote who shares space nearby. I’m grateful for screens on the windows that keep the flies out, and a deck where we sit and hang out to watch all the birds that nest in our eves. I guess you could say I’m an outdoorsy person who likes to go inside for some peace and calm—a break from the intense elements.
We can agree on the screens! I love the screened in porch, however even it has its gaps. As for the cats, the risks are hard on me, but W3 has started to aggressively try to open every door in the house. I want them to have supervised outside time to get them acclimated before W3 is just letting them out whenever he sees fit. I’ve lost a cat in the past to a predator and am well acquainted with their damage to the songbird population but thankfully we don’t have any around the house—just magpies who think the cats are a game. 💛
In Costa Rica, we got to know the owner of the ecolodge where we were staying, and they invited us over one night where we got to see their incredible home. It was made largely of bamboo materials and the incredible thing was that there were no fully enclosed external walls — just openings, some with slats or screens, no glass. No AC. The vibes? Immaculate. I feel like your lovely essay gets at some of the *why* for why this home was such a delight, blurring the lines between nature and home such that you can never forget you're IN IT and it's in you.
And about the word porous. I appreciated this reframe, having often felt that my emotional/psychological porosity (vulnerability to other people's opinions, critical feedback, etc.) was an immense vulnerability. I'll try and recapture it though next time this creeps up -- my porous nature a way of letting things breeze in and breeze out in time. That feels a lot better...
Magical indeed, and magically said. Something I think about a lot re: home life is how most people used to live more communally even just within a home—families would sleep in the same room, or a house would just have one “room” within its four walls. Then, children each had their own four walls separating them from their parents within the bigger four walls. Each person could wall themselves off from their own family. When I was a kid, I was essentially in a whole other wing of the house from my parents. If I was scared of the noises coming from the woods behind our house in Texas, my parents felt miles away, and I had to just hide under the covers and hope the monsters didn’t get me. (Of course I love privacy and alone time, too, but I do think the move from communal living to isolated living even just within our homes has played a big role in the larger shift of American culture.) (this was a long note, whoops!)
Bringing up memories of whispering for my parents because I felt so much shame in waking them up but so desperately wanted them to come. They were just across the hall!
You have inspired a long dormant reverie about my own origins of privacy: I had zero while older sis had 100% and in a different ‘wing’ too. Hmmm. It is a touchy area STILL, many decades since. We are the sum of everything hence.
This is why I get that little happy lift when I see you in my inbox.
I visit my adult kids and grandkids who live in suburban Atlanta. Their nice home is hermetically sealed. None of the windows are ever open. Instead of a screen door they have a glass door. The temperature is set to a degree that in the summer my core temp drops and I have to sit outside in the humid sauna like heat just to warm up. In the winter there I run around in my tee shirt and leggings due to the indoor heat and have to change into winter clothes to leave the house. It is such a difference from my home in the San Francisco Bay Area where my windows and doors are open as many days of the year as possible and I am proud of my long streaks of not using my AC or forced air heat. I love the sounds of the birds and that feeling of the breeze saying hello as I sit with my coffee on my deck. Thanks for giving me this moment of appreciation for a part of my life that I sometimes take for granted.
Some of my extended family lives in the Bay Area and their house is built such that you have to walk through the courtyard to get to the office or the bedroom, and even on the rainy dreary days it strikes me as *so* enchanting. Love it there.
Ah, you’re taking me back to the house I grew up in: a log cabin where you could see light where the chinking had fallen out, the roof leaked around the skylights, and every summer we’d have to rescue hummingbirds who somehow got inside despite the screen door that the cats were skilled at scaling. There were also squirrels who fell down the chimney every summer. In the winter it was an intrepid series of woodburning stoves for heat (no electric heat) and sleeping all together on the hide-a-bed in the main room like puppies when things were the coldest. I love thinking of this as porous - and my adult house (which also requires towels at a window during thunderstorms) is a bit dull by contrast. I’m always mentally seeking those “old” days. ❤️
I love this so much 🧡 Brought back memories of my grandma's house back in Iran where the windows and doors were always open in the summertime and her rule was that you never killed a lizard or spider who had wandered inside (mosquitos were fair game). Once a cat snuck in and gave birth inside one of her closets, and as a kid, I thought her house was just so magical.
Wow, what a beautiful essay. You’ve got me thinking about both my tendency to be in and out all summer (despite not being a hot weather person, I seem to want to be outside, shaded, as much as possible) and my tendency to have a lot of interpersonal walls.
I am SO excited that the temperature and humidity have reduced to the point that I can leave windows and balcony sliding door open all day (and night!) long. It was 63 here this morning; as I sat on my balcony, I felt sad for the people around me who have all their windows closed with A/C running.
How lovely to see YOU in the in box! 🎄 I love the depiction of open door living. Cats and dogs galore! And porcupine!
I lost that 3 years ago when my little apt was demolished. Where I moved has had construction next door and up and down the entire street for a constant barrage of extremely noisy construction that continues! So many eyes rudely staring into my windows from where magnificent trees used to stand. I felt like I had better put on a bra to just fill the hummingbird feeder. Now it’s a wall of 40 windows. Finding housing of any kind is so hard now. I’m so happy for those who can find room to breathe and build on!
I love you mentioning the bra because I opened the front door yesterday topless with the baby on one boob and Ben was like really “just going outside tits out?” And I was like yep yes I am.😂
I love your descriptions and connections to the outdoors, and I’m glad to have you in my inbox again. But I honestly have mixed feelings about the porosity. My dad’s cabin across the road from the early 1970s, where my brother lives, is charming and funky but too porous in my view. Dust from the dirt road floats in, flies buzz inside, mice are ever present, and it’s cold in winter. Our home is more airtight, and when the house shudders from the force of wind and snow storms, I’m grateful for the walls’ protection and the windows’ tight seals. Our cats don’t go outside because they’d kill birds or be killed by the coyote who shares space nearby. I’m grateful for screens on the windows that keep the flies out, and a deck where we sit and hang out to watch all the birds that nest in our eves. I guess you could say I’m an outdoorsy person who likes to go inside for some peace and calm—a break from the intense elements.
We can agree on the screens! I love the screened in porch, however even it has its gaps. As for the cats, the risks are hard on me, but W3 has started to aggressively try to open every door in the house. I want them to have supervised outside time to get them acclimated before W3 is just letting them out whenever he sees fit. I’ve lost a cat in the past to a predator and am well acquainted with their damage to the songbird population but thankfully we don’t have any around the house—just magpies who think the cats are a game. 💛
In Costa Rica, we got to know the owner of the ecolodge where we were staying, and they invited us over one night where we got to see their incredible home. It was made largely of bamboo materials and the incredible thing was that there were no fully enclosed external walls — just openings, some with slats or screens, no glass. No AC. The vibes? Immaculate. I feel like your lovely essay gets at some of the *why* for why this home was such a delight, blurring the lines between nature and home such that you can never forget you're IN IT and it's in you.
And about the word porous. I appreciated this reframe, having often felt that my emotional/psychological porosity (vulnerability to other people's opinions, critical feedback, etc.) was an immense vulnerability. I'll try and recapture it though next time this creeps up -- my porous nature a way of letting things breeze in and breeze out in time. That feels a lot better...
Means a lot to me that this essay allowed a little reframing.
Magical indeed, and magically said. Something I think about a lot re: home life is how most people used to live more communally even just within a home—families would sleep in the same room, or a house would just have one “room” within its four walls. Then, children each had their own four walls separating them from their parents within the bigger four walls. Each person could wall themselves off from their own family. When I was a kid, I was essentially in a whole other wing of the house from my parents. If I was scared of the noises coming from the woods behind our house in Texas, my parents felt miles away, and I had to just hide under the covers and hope the monsters didn’t get me. (Of course I love privacy and alone time, too, but I do think the move from communal living to isolated living even just within our homes has played a big role in the larger shift of American culture.) (this was a long note, whoops!)
Bringing up memories of whispering for my parents because I felt so much shame in waking them up but so desperately wanted them to come. They were just across the hall!
What’s wrong with long? 🌲
You have inspired a long dormant reverie about my own origins of privacy: I had zero while older sis had 100% and in a different ‘wing’ too. Hmmm. It is a touchy area STILL, many decades since. We are the sum of everything hence.
This is why I get that little happy lift when I see you in my inbox.
I visit my adult kids and grandkids who live in suburban Atlanta. Their nice home is hermetically sealed. None of the windows are ever open. Instead of a screen door they have a glass door. The temperature is set to a degree that in the summer my core temp drops and I have to sit outside in the humid sauna like heat just to warm up. In the winter there I run around in my tee shirt and leggings due to the indoor heat and have to change into winter clothes to leave the house. It is such a difference from my home in the San Francisco Bay Area where my windows and doors are open as many days of the year as possible and I am proud of my long streaks of not using my AC or forced air heat. I love the sounds of the birds and that feeling of the breeze saying hello as I sit with my coffee on my deck. Thanks for giving me this moment of appreciation for a part of my life that I sometimes take for granted.
Some of my extended family lives in the Bay Area and their house is built such that you have to walk through the courtyard to get to the office or the bedroom, and even on the rainy dreary days it strikes me as *so* enchanting. Love it there.
Ah, you’re taking me back to the house I grew up in: a log cabin where you could see light where the chinking had fallen out, the roof leaked around the skylights, and every summer we’d have to rescue hummingbirds who somehow got inside despite the screen door that the cats were skilled at scaling. There were also squirrels who fell down the chimney every summer. In the winter it was an intrepid series of woodburning stoves for heat (no electric heat) and sleeping all together on the hide-a-bed in the main room like puppies when things were the coldest. I love thinking of this as porous - and my adult house (which also requires towels at a window during thunderstorms) is a bit dull by contrast. I’m always mentally seeking those “old” days. ❤️
Beautiful depiction.
I love this. You’re a great writer! 😊
I think you'd probably enjoy this house (if you haven't already seen the profile). https://www.nytimes.com/2025/07/11/realestate/corfu-greece-minimalist-concrete-house.html
Googling the description because I’ve used all my free articles😂
Gift link! https://www.nytimes.com/2025/07/11/realestate/corfu-greece-minimalist-concrete-house.html?unlocked_article_code=1.b08.ELvE.Qj_ojjhjOIEM&smid=url-share
This was so incredibly beautiful. I loved every word and image.
🙏🏼💕
I love this so much 🧡 Brought back memories of my grandma's house back in Iran where the windows and doors were always open in the summertime and her rule was that you never killed a lizard or spider who had wandered inside (mosquitos were fair game). Once a cat snuck in and gave birth inside one of her closets, and as a kid, I thought her house was just so magical.
Any house a cat deems safe is a house I’d love.
Wow, what a beautiful essay. You’ve got me thinking about both my tendency to be in and out all summer (despite not being a hot weather person, I seem to want to be outside, shaded, as much as possible) and my tendency to have a lot of interpersonal walls.
The shade on a hot day is something we can all agree on as a magical space.
I am SO excited that the temperature and humidity have reduced to the point that I can leave windows and balcony sliding door open all day (and night!) long. It was 63 here this morning; as I sat on my balcony, I felt sad for the people around me who have all their windows closed with A/C running.
It was 38° here the other morning lol
Magically envisioned and written!💕
How lovely to see YOU in the in box! 🎄 I love the depiction of open door living. Cats and dogs galore! And porcupine!
I lost that 3 years ago when my little apt was demolished. Where I moved has had construction next door and up and down the entire street for a constant barrage of extremely noisy construction that continues! So many eyes rudely staring into my windows from where magnificent trees used to stand. I felt like I had better put on a bra to just fill the hummingbird feeder. Now it’s a wall of 40 windows. Finding housing of any kind is so hard now. I’m so happy for those who can find room to breathe and build on!
I love you mentioning the bra because I opened the front door yesterday topless with the baby on one boob and Ben was like really “just going outside tits out?” And I was like yep yes I am.😂
I imagine being the fly on the wall next time he heads out “tits out…” 😏
Let’s all have a TO day! 🍒
A perfect read for the morning after coming off a long backcountry trip with a wonderful floating community. Thank you!
I love a little magical timing 💫