Frontier cabin luxuries were the view, not security or comfort.

Evidence

My door opens into a little room with a stone chimney, and that again into a small room with a hay bed, a chair with a tin basin on it, a shelf and some pegs. A small window looks on the lake, and the glories of the sunrises which I see from it are indescribable. Neither of my doors has a lock, and, to say the truth, neither will shut, as the wood has swelled. — Isabella L. Bird, A Lady’s Life in the Rocky Mountains, 130

Categorization

• SEED: An essay on the aesthetics of deprivation: how a window becomes the entire architecture of a life when nothing else is designed.
• CANDY: Doors that won’t lock because the wood swelled — the timber itself refusing privacy.