An interesting concept in cabinology

The Watershed, a 70-square-foot, off the grid writer’s retreat in Wren, Oregon, USA designed by Erin Moore.

Professor and nature writer Kathleen Dean Moore wanted a studio in which to write and observe the wetland ecosystem on the banks of the Marys River. Calling on the design expertise of an architect daughter, the carpentry skills of her husband, the labor of friends, and a front loader, she erected The Watershed in 2007.

Totally off the grid—–Kathleen forgoes the computer and writes by hand when there—–the Watershed was designed to tread as lightly on the fragile ecosystem as the wild turkeys and Western pond turtles that live nearby. “The goal was to figure out how to live on the land without spoiling it,” says Kathleen, alluding to one of her literary idols, naturalist Aldo Leopold, who called that pursuit “the oldest task in human history.” By carrying in the building materials and erecting a structure that can be just as easily disassembled and fully
recycled, the Moores acted in accordance with the farsighted land ethic expressed in Kathleen’s writings. 
She describes the Watershed, which grew out of Erin’s architecture thesis at the University of California at Berkeley, as by turns a sanctuary, an escape, and a space she hopes to open to friends. 
The windows to the west permit a view of the trees where hawks make their nests, but the real coup is the water trough just outside. A chute from the roof lets rainwater trickle down into the steel basin, which acts as both a measure for precipitation and a favorite spot for deer to drink, birds to grab a quick bath, and, dazzlingly, for light to reflect back into the Watershed. “If you’re lying on your back on the floor around noon,” says Erin, “the surface of the water bath is projected up onto the ceiling.”
Though her mother’s folly is visually appealing, Erin claims that it is “not something to look at; it’s more about being there and looking out.” Kathleen agrees: “I find myself writing more and more about silence out here,” she says. “I find myself wanting to tell stories about how wild places can comfort us.” Gleefully, she adds: “This weekend my husband and I are going out with our sleeping bags. When the storms come in and the rain beats down on the roof, it’s like a musical instrument.”

Much more here.

 As long as it has a wood stove for a bit of heat and to brew some coffee or tea, it would work for me.