A whitewashed finca alone in the black vine fields. Ash underfoot, trade wind overhead, and vines growing in craters dug by hand.

A steel-roofed A-frame folded into old Baltic pines. String lights over the deck, a wood stove inside, trees in every window.

A herder’s hut on an open saddle at 2,200 metres. Snowed in half the year — you ski the last kilometre with your groceries.

Two turf-roofed cabins above a cold green lake. A gravel track, a rowing boat, and hills that hold the light until midnight.