
Helicopter
A meticulously restored 1968 Sikorsky HH-3F Sea King Pelican takes pride of place inside a cottage-turned-hangar. The cockpit is a cocktail lounge.

One hundred and thirteen acres in the Litchfield Hills. Nineteen dwellings, fifteen architects, and not a single one alike.
DescendIn 1948, Winthrop and Vian Smith bought a farm and gave it both their names. Their family still keeps the fire lit — and still says come as you are.
A hangar. A beaver dam. A treehouse. A secret society. Keep scrolling — every room is its own world.

A meticulously restored 1968 Sikorsky HH-3F Sea King Pelican takes pride of place inside a cottage-turned-hangar. The cockpit is a cocktail lounge.

Gaze up at the genuine beaver dam that forms a one-of-a-kind canopy over a bed with posts crafted from stones and gently curving tree trunks.

A two-story fantasy suspended in the trees. Drift off lulled by rustling leaves; take morning coffee from a treetop balcony.

Moody and romantic. Decor suggesting an elegant Ivy League club, a juliette porch, and a windowed ceiling for your favorite co-conspirator.

Fall asleep under an arched ceiling painted to mimic the changing sky, framed by wildflowers, fiddleheads, or falling snow.

A massive white oak separates the living room and raised primary bedroom — an homage to Connecticut legend.

Book-lined walls, a library ladder, a skylight. The main bedroom hides behind a bookshelf. No whispering required.

Evoking a lighthouse, with colors drawn from sea and sky and a dazzling mural in the vaulted ceiling over Charles Pond.

Inspired by what Shakespeare dubbed “the food of love.” Playful colors, abundant windows, a double-sided fireplace.

The horse barns of New England, elevated three levels. A sunken soaking tub waits on the lowest.

A curving slate roof, stacked pillars, timeless stone floors and a live-edge wooden headboard.

Indoor tree trunks reach for a vaulted ceiling. The bathroom reveals an indoor waterfall.

Natural light floods it by day; flickering firelight cues romance by night in the glass-walled Great Room.

Perched on the edge of the White Memorial preserve. A chandelier at once rustic and glam.

An ode to American ingenuity. A double-sided fireplace and a two-story light well over the bath.

A nod to Mark Twain. Regal red hues and a royal bedchamber; dual rainforest showers framed by stone.

A painted brick fireplace and timeless leather couches, in intimate clubby style.

Warm brick, stained glass, curved arches, and an attached studio. Pick up a paintbrush — or a wine glass.

Inside the 1775 family home: Regency Era style with a steam shower and soaking tub.


Peepers through open windows at dusk. Maples on fire in October. Snow falling past a wood-burning hearth.
Executive Chef Chris Eddy — trained under Alain Ducasse and Daniel Boulud — begins most days walking the garden rows steps from his kitchen. The menu changes daily, decided by whatever is at its peak that morning.
“Solidness is our signature.”



5,000 square feet of timber, radiant stone and cedar against the woods. Heated river stones, Tibetan sound bowls, a fireplace in the couples' room.

Maggie Smith and her daughter Heather Smith Winkelmann aren't a corporation — and it shows.
Pull up at Maggie's Tavern after dinner: local art on the walls, a shuffleboard table, the fire still going long after the last dish is cleared.