Snow Flowers

Sunday morning cold. Yesterday's surprise snowstorm (to us at the flower shop who toil on without benefit of constant weather updates) is still piled up on the ground. The nicest part of the snowstorm was when we drove down our plowed (quel surprise) street and discovered a neighbor had shoveled both our driveway and a path to our door. And then Tini brought us Thai food for dinner and "Julie and Julia" to watch. Our life is good, very, very good.


When I leave the shop on Saturday I always grab a handful of flowers. By then I'm so tired I just want a few stems of something simple. Maybe a few roses, this time of year a flowering branch (cherry this week) and some spring things. I usually stick them in a water glass and fall into the bath. Sunday morning I put them in vases. An odd assortment of vases, may I say, some vintage coke bottles, a basalmic vinegar bottle and this week some que cute 1 shot tequilla bottles we begged from a New Years Eve party. A strange vessel for a non drinker but too cute not to keep. Tho' I must say cleaning them out on New Years Day was a experience I'm glad I don't have every morning.


Now breakfast and then grocery shopping. I dare anyone to watch "Julie and Julia" and not feel the need to cook something fabulous instantly.

Pokie Picks A Book

Re: previous post. Everybody and I mean everybody reads at my house.

A Perfect Day For Bananafish

What a perfect title. Rest In Peace J.D. Salinger. The bathtub scene in Franny And Zooey made me laugh out loud, every time I read it. Holden Caulfield's little sister Phoebe. Goddamn Phoebe I loved her. I loved Salinger. We didn't read him in school. I went to Catholic schools, not at all liberal or progressive. I was about as self destructive as Holden Caulfield and managed both an expulsion from boarding school myself, and one from all girls Catholic college too.

Reading saved my life. My grandmother taught me to read when I was 3. I read Gone With The Wind in 4th or 6th grade. What ever grade it was, the nuns did not approve. I was always in trouble, never studying, always a mouth on me, but boy could I read. Books showed me there was a larger world out there, different kinds of people, everybody didn't wear a uniform. I wore one for 12 years.

A big thank you to all the authors who opened doors to different rooms for me, who led me down different paths than the ones I was shown. Who provided a much needed escape hatch. Who continue to enrich my life every day. Let's hear it for the written word.

The Simple Things

Today Soul Aperture blog is sending 1.00 to Doctors Without Borders in Haiti for every blog that lists the simple things that make their souls sing.
Let me count the ways:


Sunshine. A summer day in June. Being at home cooking during a rain
or snow storm. Windows wide open with birds singing and a breeze blowing.
Discovering a new author who has written lots of books. Rereading a favorite
book. An iced grande skim latte, especially one drunk with friends all talking a
mile a minute. Laughing at work. Working in the garden. The first
snowdrop, lily of the valley, smell of lilac, fruit tree blossoms. Taking a cool
shower after many hot hours weeding. Feeding friends and family. Being fed
by friends and family. Finding a new blog that speaks to my heart. Exercising
my heart muscles. Loving, living every moment of my life, feeling gratitude.



From the garden: ripe tomatoes, juicy raspberries, fresh basil, the first fig.

At work: a sharp knife, fresh flowers, a beautiful arrangement by a coworker.

At home: flannel sheets in the winter, cool cotton in the summer, a cup of tea, walking barefoot on clean floors.

I'm Not A Modernist. Dammit.

I can't help it. I page through magazine after magazine. I read blog after blog. I love contemporary spaces, neutral colors, the perfect chair, painting, blackboard wall. Then, there I am, in a consignment shop on Sunday loving a little wingback chair. Only 25" wide, in a colorway I can't identify but I know will work with the couch. On Tuesday afternoon, after a tough 2 hours ordering the Valentine's Day flowers with my boss, I give in. Call the shop, it's closed, but the owner will meet us there. My boss and I rush over and collect chair. Triumphantly bring it home. All dreams of uncluttered living are put to rest.
It's here, it works, I am not a modernist. Fine.

Tuesday Morning Tears

As if it's not hard enough to leave your warm cozy house for work, this is the face I have to see. The "are you really going to leave me all alone AGAIN?" face. And the sound track is sighs, big puppy sighs.

Monday Morning

In all honesty, my morning has mostly consisted of walking the dog and cleaning. Neither photo or blog worthy, tho' my kitchen floor looks great! But it's 60 degrees out ( I don't know why..) so the doors are open, the quince blossoms indoors are opening and I just had a delicious breakfast parfait.


I found the granola recipe on The Little House In The City. I skipped the coconut, not a big fan, and used sliced almonds, too lazy to chop. I only had almonds so I doubled the amount. Best granola ever, especially served in one of German girl's Heinrich china dishes. I ate the granola with yogurt and some surprisingly good blueberries.


And even though we haven't hung one thing on the newly painted walls, here is a shot of the two blues. I love the way they meet in the corners. I feel like I'm floating in here. Back down to earth, time to vacuum.

I just saw that The Little House In The City updated her granola recipe using olive oil in place of the butter. I used the butter. I probably will again.