Each room is named for something that belongs to the house. Read them slowly — the right one usually announces itself.
The quiet one off the entrance, with its own door to the outside.
First floor, just past the front door — the room you can slip in and out of without waking the house. A queen bed, a table in the window, a balcony off the side.
Two full beds and a back balcony, on the warm end of the second floor.
Old pine floors, a framed winter over each bed, and heat that holds — in January the window stays cracked. The balcony looks onto snow and the red barn out back.
A king bed, two warm lamps, and pines at every window.
Morning comes in green through the pines, and after dark it's the woods and the quiet and two lamps left on.
A dark sleigh bed, soft green walls, and a bathroom someone painted by hand.
Plain and a little formal in the bedroom, then a bathroom that's a small painted world — green hills, climbing roses, the whole wall. Mornings here are slow and very quiet.
Two rooms at the end of the hall, a fire, and a clawfoot tub.
The last door on the second-floor hall opens onto two rooms — a bed by the window in the back, an electric fireplace in the front.
