27 Balconies That Prove Simple Joys Always Fit, Even in the Tiniest Space

• I decided to update my balcony: there’s barely any space, but I’ve always dreamed of placing a small table, plants, and a pouf there. The painter came over, and he was a real looker — kind of a Brad Pitt type. I offered him tea, then lemonade, then brought him cake — not a spark of interest...
  And then he takes off his gloves, pulls a piece of paper out of his pocket, and says, “I sketched out where it would be best to put the table and where to hang the plants. If you don’t mind, we could later see together whether it’s comfortable to drink coffee there.”

• My husband and I spent a long time debating whether we needed a little table on the balcony. He’d say, “There’s barely room to turn around as it is,” and I’d say, “But we could have tea there.”
  In the end, we found a folding table, attached it to the wall, hung up a string of lights, and put out one chair. A second one simply wouldn’t fit.
  The first evening, we took turns drinking tea: one of us would sit, while the other stood by the door and commented on the sunset. It was funny, but ever since then, it’s become our favorite spot. If a conversation is brewing at home, we say, “Shall we go to the café?” and head out to the balcony.
  Sure, the café is tiny, but it’s ours, with a view of a tree and real homemade cookies.

• I decided to turn my storage-room balcony into a coffee nook. I cleared out the boxes and called in a handyman to remove the old paneling. He took off the last board, called me over, and handed me a small tin box: “Looks like someone left this for you.”
  I opened it and found a little packet of seeds, dried lavender, and a note: “Someday, there will be flowers here again.” The handyman smiled: “So, shall we make it happen?”
  A week later, there was a little table on the balcony and the air smelled of mint.

But one day, something clicked: 65 square feet remained useless. For a small apartment, that’s practically a whole room. I saved up some money, admitted that home renovations weren’t my superpower, hired professionals, and moved out for a week.
When I came back, it was no longer a forgotten corner, but a neat, bright space where I finally wanted to live instead of just storing old stuff.

• For years, our balcony was the banishment zone for everything we “weren’t quite ready to throw out yet”: old buckets, boxes, a drying rack, a broken chair.
  One day I snapped, cleared it all out, laid down wooden deck tiles, and added an armchair with a cushion and a couple of plants. I thought I’d sit there in the evening with a coffee and enjoy my new life.
  But the cat was the first to appreciate the balcony. He majestically hopped into the chair, lay down right in the center, and it seemed like he was saying, “Thank you, you finally made me a summer residence.” Now I step out there with my cup, and he looks at me like I’m an uninvited guest.

• I work remotely, and at some point my apartment started to feel like an office with no way out: a laptop in the kitchen, calls in the bedroom, deadlines even next to the kettle. So I decided to reclaim the balcony from all the clutter.
  I cleared out the boxes, hung a shelf, set up a small table, added a couple of plants, and brought in an old armchair everyone had been planning to toss. Now I have my own little nook.