Sunday, April 16, 2017


I wish you all the joys of this Blessed, beautiful day.

Monday, April 10, 2017


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Legend, artist and voice of generations.

Wednesday, April 5, 2017


Hutch built and styled by Trishiesminicorner on ETSY

Y’all come see us---the mat’s always out and the Keurig’s humming to herself.   Sweetpea’s introduced us to the most charming new housekeeper, though having to provide lodging for all that entourage of birds and mice was a bit tricky.  

Just sit right down, for what could be more welcoming than a bright pink kitchen, a smiling hostess, and a pug-in-a-tutu.

The wee-est candy dishes, reminiscent of the one huge heavy one on my Mammaw J’s coffee-table in their own tiny house.  It was always filled with King Leo peppermint balls---tiny pillows which whispered away on your tongue, leaving the faintest breath of sweet toothpaste.

Small necessaries:

The every-morning kitchen, with sunshine through the leaves, bright red coffee machine, and a fading pair of the eternal dish-britches.

 Lots of pretty pink salt.   The little flamingo couple are crocheted finger-puppets from a great menagerie we’ve collected over the years.  They come out mostly for after-dinner happenings and little pageants around holiday tables, as each of us chooses our role and character.

The new pink lights around the pass-through, and the small tinsel-tree like a magpie nest of gee-gaws from the old jewelry chest, with little doves in their nests of gaudy pink crowns.   The note-box at the top was a gift from my friend Donna at GATHER.

The flag-plank at the top was made by our two youngest GRANDS---with their handprints as the stars.

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And some silly musings, after living in this fairy kitchen---this would be our Summer cottage in Maine.

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And the handy Air-Stream parked out in the drive---A Girl can Dream.

Motoring on over to All things PINK at Beverly's House!!   With a fun stop at JOY'S Friendship Party.

Monday, April 3, 2017


The latest post from Susie at SheJunks had the neatest ending---she spoke of her sister who “does not do e-mail,” and of the quiet simplicity of sitting on the porch on this past Spring weekend, writing a letter as April arrived and the skies were a perfect sapphire overhead.   She says she “still writes,” quite matter-of-factly, as if it’s a confession to practicing an archaic custom long-forgotten, and I do fear that it soon might be.
It made me think of a long-ago post of my own, and of the delight in receiving the gift of a new fountain pen.
“I have ink on my fingers today---I just filled my new fountain pen for the first time.   It was a Christmas gift from Sweetpea and her Mama, who choose the most wonderful presents, with a good eye (and ear, for they LISTEN) for what any of us might enjoy.
The ink---that's a FEELING. I'd been admiring and picking up my graceful new bottle of ink since Christmas, for it came with the pen. It's shaped like a squat, very smooth hourglass, with, like a lot of us, a lot more sand run through than remains. The lid is like a wide-top shako, sans plume, and the whole thing is made of the smoothest glass, with the inky depths converted into gleaming onyx by the shining curve of the hip. 

The pen itself is a lovely purple, and Caro and I tried yesterday to name it---her "aubergine" came closest, I think, for it's just the shade of one of those smooth slender Japanese eggplants, hefty in the hand.   It was chosen by our Sweetpea, because it's her favorite color. The clip is exactly that, like a Gucci paper-clip, strong and sturdy and sleek. And I'll be writing today, a bit, REALLY writing, for almost all my words are set down in clicks of the keyboard. I CALL that writing, for it engenders a spark of satisfaction, but the real thing is done with hand and pen.”

And my comment to Susie: 

Did you ever think you'd use the words "still write"? That's like "still cook" or "still read," to me---and the feel of that real fountain pen, flowing out your words and thoughts to someone you care about---that's just the loveliest part. And that they "write back," is a great blessing and boon. I think we all need a "Doesn't do e-mail" person in our lives, if for nothing else, to keep us aware of the lovely moments of stillness between words and thoughts, as we send and receive in that age-old way which they keep alive and we so easily forget. 

We dash down so many letters and spaces on the fly, with great gulps of information and doings and sharings, like we're out to get it all out there before we forget. But there's the quiet moment on the porch, with the little table holding pen and ink and paper---oh, all those lovely papers, with their different textures and colours and feel---those moments are akin to worship, on a small plane, I think, contemplating and putting down the slow, even lines to be read and savored and kept long beyond the dried-to-dust empty ink-bottle and the billions of bytes cast into the air by our flying keyboards.

What a lovely thought you've conveyed this morning, beyond the Spring weekend and those incredibly blue skies we enjoyed. I think I'm going to go take down my (real, hold-it-in-your-hand) address book and get out one of those packs of the Spring floral paper. Even in here, in a warm chair with a cup of tea, it will evoke Summer Sunshine to send out a note or two to those I love.