This is a photograph of our back garden that I took about 10 minutes ago.

It's an entirely typical scene for our house. The grass is uncut, the branches are strewn with garments and fabrics. An ancient baby carriage that has been converted into an earth carrier, scattershot chairs, some standing, some tipped over so the rain falls on their backs. An unfinished screen door leaning against a tree trunk. Garden implements left where they were last used.

Inside our house is not that dissimilar. No one in my family sees anything of the accumulating mess that stirs the slightest desire to move it. Clothes get gathered when a shortage of clean ones requires a wash. Papers get filed when a need for a document stimulates a search through a pile of unopened or semi-opened mail. Floors get cleaned when a sticky mess gets between the toes. Dust bunnies breed in corners and run around the house at night. (Curiously, though, no mice at the moment).

Our house is paradise. Paradise will look like this.