I'm staying here right now. Magic City Farm. I had to vacate The Venezuelans' apartment for two weeks while they are visiting Miami from Caracas. I found Magic City Farm online and when I saw the Purvis Young paintings, I knew it was going to be a very special place.
It is a balm, for all of us. You can't feel the breeze, but it's always there. It's a secret location. Secret even to long-time Miamians. Hid behind a blue concrete wall in one of our oldest, saddest, neighborhoods. If you had told me I'd wind up happy here - sleeping in a cottage without a lock on the door - I'd have told you that was crazy-talk.
Beautiful vintage fabrics. Mixed, not matched.
There is a pot belly pig named Don Wrinkles, after Don Rickles. But he mostly goes by "Wrinkles."
Amazing gardens. And you haven't even seen the half of it. Check out the multi-media slideshow at the New York Times.
The word "charm" was invented for places like this - but did the storm touch you?
Posted by: Kristen | October 31, 2012 at 08:59 PM