This is my house. To be clear, the little door on the tree stump is not where I live, but this is in the garden at my family's home in Indiana. Shortly after I moved to New York, my mom sent me this picture. She explained how she had a $10 credit to catalogue she often buys garden things from and they had this little door. So she got it, chiseled out space for the door and cut flag stones to act as steps to the imaginary home. It took all afternoon during a hot, summer Sunday. I think she got sunburnt.
This is the reason I love my mom. It also may explain why I am the way I am.
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