As a child I always loved the Aesop's Fable "The City Mouse and the Country Mouse." The story was popular even in Ancient Greece, and was more recently retold by Beatrix Potter. Search it on Amazon and you will find tens of versions available. The gist of it is this: a city mouse visits her cousin in the country, and is frightened by the rain and scoffs at the rustic, plain food. Later, the country mouse visits her city cousin, and is similarly turned off by a couple of dogs and the fanciness of her cousin's lifestyle. Most children probably identify immediately with one or the other--as a fifth generation New Yorker, I definitely always saw myself as the city mouse. More recently though, I've been feeling the pull of the country--beautiful green lawns, delicious homecooked (and maybe homegrown!) meals, big sunny rooms and dogs and horses running around an expansive, beautiful countryside property.
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| My childhood dream home |
images: unknown, luxist, miles redd
I grew up in a townhouse that was part home, part gallery here in NYC, and have always loved strolling through Greenwich Village and down the side streets of the Upper East Side, imagining what goes on behind the beautiful limestone, brick, and brownstone facades. At night you occasionally pass by a house with the lights on and catch a peek of beautiful built-in bookshelves, ornate moldings, arched doorways and all the beautiful details of pre-war New York. Many townhouses open up into private or shared gardens, providing their lucky owners with a quiet piece of the country right in the middle of Manhattan. What could be better?
New York certainly has its share of beautiful apartments too (coming up in the next installment of "City Mouse"!) but there is something undeniably luxurious about having your own house, complete with a serene garden, right in the middle of this city of skyscrapers and non-stop hustle and bustle.
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