Meghan DiCocco

Under the Thumb of the Leprechaun Mafia

I had moved into my dream home the previous week and was in the process of getting settled. The home, built in the 1920s, looked like a combination of a Thomas Kinkade cottage and a Hobbit hole. It was warm, cozy and had amazing touches (coved ceilings, beautiful woodwork everywhere, leaded glass windows) and was set on a generous lot overlooking the forest. My favorite room, the reason I jumped on the house, was the living room with its built in bookshelves, window seat overlooking the kitchen garden and, the best part, the stout wood burning fireplace surrounded by a hearth of tumbled river stones capped with a thick oak mantle. The room has a certain magic that made it seem like time stood still and the only priorities you had were reading, napping and staring at the fire.