the last refuge

For all such people the country became their last refuge. They bought little farms in Connecticut or Vermont, and renovated the fine old houses with just a shade too much of whimsey or of retrained good taste. Their quaintness was a little too quaint, their simplicity a little too subtle, and on the farms that they bought no utilitarian seeds were sown and no grain grew. They went in for flowers, and in time they learned to talk very knowingly about the rarer varieties. They loved the simple life, of course.
Thomas Wolfe, You Can't Go Home Again

Cardboard house from Working with Cardboard and Paper by Harvey Weiss, (The Beginning Artist's Library), Addison-Wesley, 1978, via stopping off place.