As Josh’s series on the Idiots continues today on Slate, the focus is on the barn—our home, our studio, and our sanctuary. We thought we’d share some photos to give you a sense of what the place looks like.

Here it is from the street.

We like to think that it was once surrounded by horses, wheat fields and the like, but now it backs up against a parking lot and a flower store.

Here is a diagram that helps you understand how we divide the space. Robbi’s mom has her pottery shop and studio downstairs. We live up top.

Here is the main room, where we eat our meals and watch TV (we are almost never to be found here).

And here is the kitchen, a thing we seldom use to full potential.

The nursery is on the other side of the glass block window.

These small people live therein:

Alden (with her best friend Stinky Hippy)

And Kato (with his best friend Yellow Highlighter [Kato is undiscerning])

And here is our studio (decked out in this shot for an open studio tour we hosted last fall).

Looking toward my desk:

And looking toward Robbi’s:

I climbed up a ladder to take this shot looking from the studio over the half-wall into our bedroom.

And in so doing, got a nice close look at some of the original beams.

As part of his thinking for the Slate series, Josh asked us each to do a sketch of our “ideal creative space.” I sat down with my pencil and Robbi with her pen. Here’s what happened.

My ideal:

Click here to see a larger, zoomable version.

And Robbi’s:

Click here to see a larger, zoomable version.

Robbi’s space is expansive and I opted for cozy. To be fair, she needs a lot more stuff than I do. All I need is a comfortable nook that’s lined with books and has a view of something beautiful. Hardwood floors would be a plus, but are not necessary. The clump of small magnetic balls is an absolute deal-breaker.

Looking at Robbi’s space, I love her wall of windows and her rocking reading chair. I can see her painting at her easel with the mountains spread before her. I appreciate that she included a place for me to lounge (with many pillows, nonetheless; I love pillows). I afforded her a door. I think we’re fairly balanced on this count.

We both placed trees and mountains just outside the window. Both of us are drawn to those sleepy, tree-surrounded back roads of New England. We think we might return there some day.

But the truth is, were we to migrate north, we’d miss the barn, perhaps more than we could stand. It’s a part of this story, our lucky penny, our hideout and, as Josh says with such poetry, our bat cave.