Little Outdoor Moments

I have always believed that the best room in any house is the one without walls. In Ojai, I transformed a carport — a concrete slab with a stone arch and nothing else — into a place you would want to have dinner for twelve. Linen curtains tied back against the fieldstone, a long picnic table under a pendant light, the oaks visible through both ends. It cost almost nothing and it changed the entire property. At the front door, I hung an iron hook rail and let the wall tell the story of the people who live there — no art required. A stock tank on a porch becomes the best bathtub you have ever had — just add a hidden hose, a cutting board shelf, and a glass of wine at golden hour. A twenty-six-foot tipi bought from the set of a television show in New Mexico becomes a birthday party, a place where a toddler crawls out through balloons into the desert light. An egg chair from Craigslist, stripped of its metal chain and rehung with natural rope from an ancient oak, becomes the only seat in a meadow that makes you forget your outside.