It reminded me of My Sister's home in the pines, in the pines of north Florida, the one we still call "The Big House." Big house, big pots. You can see how well it all worked.
Anyway, every spring My Sister bought a car-full of flowers and green plants to arrange in large pots of various colors and shapes, then place them outside in several miniature patio areas around her home. The patios were cheerful seating arrangements just large enough for two people. Us.
We often took a sandwich or cup of hot tea with us, maybe even a hat, and enjoyed being southern. The chairs always had plush, colorful pillows with small side tables nearby for our drinks or food. For me, the pots were the focal point. Each one was like a tiny garden all by itself, and each one different. Some had tall spikes and bright red flowers. Others had delicate yellow things hanging over the sides and plants with uptown names like aster and lobelia. She knew their names and spoke of them with confidence.
No spot on any pot was left unplanted. The highlight of our day was deciding which "garden patio" to sit in next.
I was in heaven.
It wasn't just the outside patios that had charm in The Big House. Inside were wonderful cottage floral sheets on the beds and a pantry full of unhealthy, delicious snacks. I could eat randomly and with abandon.
Best of all, at night after everyone went to sleep, the big home didn't go dark like my home did. Small lights were left on so that a soft, amber glow filled every room, upstairs and down. If I came in late for my visit or woke up in the middle of the night, everything said, "You're up! I'm glad!."
Even at night the house was alive and friendly.