I went to a country party on Saturday night and the backdrop was like a dream

There was a magnificent house, standing like an old man with a long story, each piece of wood in its walls whispering a secret

it was open to the field and the pond like a child open and waiting for direction

and in the house, unrelated treasures so breathtakingly assorted and dropped into place as if they were always there – such a visual relief from so many homes that match and reflect nothing of the people who live there

I walked through  thinking just to be there I felt I knew the hosts intimately

And the willows that dip and bend and drop their unruly hair to cover their faces – surrounded the magnificent pond that sat so still like a mirror- I could barely stand how other worldly and beautiful it was

For so many minutes I forgot there were over 100 people there and a band playing and food and people to talk to

Instead I wondered for so long about how inspiring it would be to live there and wake up to this every day and feel you were in an enchanted forest, in a house with such bulging charm

where anything could happen and nothing would be regular

On Sunday when I left I felt a bit of Robert Frost’s poem but in the best possible way- click here for  what I mean – and don’t hate me for it