There was a book (I don’t recall the title) I read as a child that fueled my imagination about what a dream home could be. I don’t remember the characters or even the story line but one thing stood out–a house whose interior was overflowing with plants. A glass roof would allow light in to nourish the carpets of soft green grass on every floor. Fruit trees of all varieties and berry bushes would overflow from every corner of every room. Breakfast would be a simple matter of snapping a ripe red mango from a branch that stretched into the living room. A waterfall from the third floor would cascade into a stream, full of fish, that would then meander through the main hall and end in the foyer. Animals, big and small, would wander into the home to graze or rest, unaware that the outside was now the inside. The song of birds would echo throughout and flowers would perfume the air.

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