On a small island a few hours north of the city stands an old pine cabin that was built by a family from Iowa in the 1930s. My sister-in-law and her husband bought the cabin a couple of years ago and it’s where they spend as much of the summer as they can. There’s a composting toilet, no electricity and the few appliances –– a fridge and a stove –– are from the 50s. Old recipes for corn bread and such are pinned to the walls, and the cupboards are stocked with decades-old household tools and necessities. Antique skis and a “Gone Fishing” sign hang above the tiny hallway to the bedrooms. Beyond updating the dock, they’ve kept the cabin as it always was. And It’s charming. Hanging out in a little log cabin among the stars and the lakes and the loons is a pretty lovely way to spend your summer. Lucky for us, we get to visit from time to time.

As much as I enjoy a good clash of colour and print, I also appreciate a space with deliberate links between a fabric, flower and wall colour. This bedroom, in a vibrantly decorated cottage in Tulsa, is pure joy. I love the leafy wallpaper and corresponding cushion, and I love the pop of pink against the bright green. The clean white sheet highlights the white space in the leafy textile. The bed looks narrow, so I can only assume that these colourful people are also very small.

If I ever walked into this room, I’d quite possible stay forever. I might need to change the chandelier to something like this or this and I’d want to see a vase stuffed full of watermelon pink peonies on that little end table, but what a beautiful room this is. The question is what would I wear to sit in such a room?