willow's hot stuff for 2010

Drum roll.....I know you've all been waiting, with baited breath, for

the 2010 edition of my little "willowy list" of what's hot and what's

not. I could go on forever, but kept it simple, and narrowed it down

to the top eight things. And you know what? I'm sure they're no

surprise to you, gentle readers. You can read me like an open book;

one from the second hand shop with the creaky hardwood floors,

that is. So, without further ado, here's the hotties and the notties,

according to me, in no particular order:

.

.

1. Hot: deep peacock walls.....Not: taupe walls
2. Hot: Edna St. Vincent Millay.....Not: Jane Austen
3. Hot: vintage blue willow.....Not: Crabtree & Evelyn
4. Hot: Jonathan Adler.....Not: American Primitives
5. Hot: woodcut prints.....Not: Harrison Fisher prints
6. Hot: woolly socks (no surprise).....Not: gladiator sandals
7. Hot: garnets.....Not: delicate silver
8. Hot: Meryl Streep..... Not: Angelina Jolie

There's a lot of mediocrity being celebrated,

and a lot of wonderful stuff

being ignored or discouraged.

.

Sean Penn

.

.

peacock wall photographed by Jonny Valiant, woodcut by Bold

the woods are lovely, dark and deep

Okay, back up to last Tuesday, the 22nd. Remember that load of snow that landed on the east coast? Well, one of my little ships was stranded in an airport, with no flights out until Christmas Eve. So, the resourceful little ship boarded a train and headed west. We, in turn, hopped in our trusty dark green Land Rover and headed east. It was a beautiful wintry road trip.

Whose woods these are I think I know.

His house is in the village, though;

He will not see me stopping here

To watch his woods fill up with snow.

My little horse must think it queer

To stop without a farmhouse near

Between the woods and frozen lake

The darkest evening of the year.

He gives his harness bells a shake

To ask if there's some mistake.

The only other sound's the sweep

Of easy wind and downy flake.

The woods are lovely, dark and deep,

But I have promises to keep,

And miles to go before I sleep,

And miles to go before I sleep.

.

Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening

Robert Frost

what i've been up to

Things have quieted down at the manor, now that one of my little
ships has left port. A wonderful time was had by all. Thank you all
for your dear holiday greetings. I'll slowly be making my way down
your street in the bloggyhood this week, but right now, I'm
recuperating, in my woolly socks, in one of my favorite spots; curled
up in front of a toasty fire with my good friend, Edna St. Vee.

Here's one of my faves:

Winter Night

Pile high the hickory and the light

Log of chestnut struck by the blight.

Welcome-in the winter night.

The day has gone in hewing and felling,

Sawing and drawing wood to the dwelling

For the night of talk and story-telling.

These are the hours that give the edge

To the blunted axe and the bent wedge,

Straighten the saw and lighten the sledge.

Here are question and reply,

And the fire reflected in the thinking eye.

So peace, and let the bob-cat cry.

Edna St. Vincent Millay

merry christmas

The light of the Christmas star to you

The warmth of home and hearth to you

The cheer and good will of friends to you

The hope of a childlike heart to you

The joy of a thousand angels to you

The love of the Son and God's peace to you.

Much love, willow ~~xx

.

Irish blessing, my photo

a case of the woollies

I have a major woolly crush on Monty Woolley. The holidays just wouldn't be the same without him at the manor. He happens to be in two of my favorite holiday films, The Bishop's Wife and The Man Who Came to Dinner. Interestingly enough, Woolley plays two completely opposite characters in these two movies, and I love him as both.


I'm totally in love with him as the charming, tweedy, bearded Professor Wutheridge, so thoughtful and intelligent, in his cozy book laden apartment, full of bits of sculpture and a special hidden bottle of never ending sherry, that stimulates, warms, and inspires, but never inebriates. I want to help decorate his little table top tree with the angel on top, then sit by his fire, his lucky ancient Roman coin, warm in the palm of my hand, listening to him read excerpts from his history manuscripts.

I also adore him as the professor's total antithesis, the brilliant, sharp tongued, Sheridan Whiteside, who bruises everyone around him with witty, Groucho-like insults. I want to be his personal assistant, just like Bette Davis, and handle all his business affairs, straighten his tie, bring him his slippers and maybe even his
woolly socks. Sigh. I'm smitten.

my faves

Just in case you haven't baked cut-out sugar cookies yet, these are
my favorite tradition at the manor. They're rustic and chunky and
have the most velvety texture. They absolutely melt in your mouth.
They take me back in time to the wonderful sugar cookies I ate as a
little girl. And speaking of little ones, I didn't bother with the
sprinkles or colored sugar, since I didn't have any helping me this
year in the big ol' empty nest.

Willow's Sugar Cookies

1 cup butter
2 cups sugar
1 tsp vanilla
2 eggs
4 cups flour
1/2 tsp salt

Combine flour and salt in a bowl and set aside. In electric mixing
bowl, mix butter, 1 cup sugar and vanilla. Add remaining sugar
and eggs and beat until fluffy. Slowly add flour mixture while
continuing to mix on low.

Roll dough 1/4 inch thick and cut out shapes. Don't add any extra
flour. The dough rolls easily without it.

Bake 350 degrees for 10 - 12 minutes. Be careful not to over bake!


Buttery Cookie Icing

3 cups powdered sugar
1/3 cup butter softened
1 Tbsp milk
1 1/2 tsp vanilla

Blend butter and powdered sugar, add milk and vanilla, mix until
smooth. Add an additional pinch of milk if needed.

Ice cooled cookies. Allow icing to set before stacking cookies.

santa's poetry go-kart

Hey, The Poetry Bus is back for a Christmas special! Actually, it's
[Santa's Poetry Go-Kart ]. So, if you'd like to hop aboard, get
yourself and your poem over to TFE's blog. My ticket for Santa is
posted as follows...


Oh, Tennenbaum



It smells
like plastic and dust,
that tacky impostor
who lives in a box
in the cellar.

It's hinges and sockets
replace the sappy
mess that sticks
to my fingers
and makes them itch

of wood and pine,
my hands contort
to unwind the nest
of wires that clings
to the trunk

and makes me
threaten to blow it up
with fireplace logs,
like a rocket bound
for the North Pole.

It's understood,
the cheesy faux stump
sports ready-made
lights that glow
so easy, and hey,

I can leave it up
til Ground Hog's Day,
if I want.



willow, 2009

sagittarius

My dear friend, the talented collage artist, Leslie Avon Miller, gently
reminded me that I was a little late in spotlighting Sagittarius. She
was so right. In the bustle of the holiday preparations, I nearly forgot.
By the way, if you aren't already familiar with the Leslie's fabulous
artwork, hop over and pay her a visit at [Textures Shapes and Color].


Sagittarius, November 23 - December 21 is the ninth sign of the
zodiac. It's symbolized by a centaur, a mythical creature, which is
half man, half horse, famed as a wild hunter, and usually depicted
holding a bow and arrow. This sign is associated with seeking
knowledge, new challenges, and with a love of travel. Sagittarius
is an enthusiastic fire sign and also a restless mutable sign.

Sagittarius is the sign of the philosopher. People with planets in
Sagittarius are seekers and explorers. Known to be generous and
expansive, big ideas and grand visions fill them with enthusiasm.
However, in their excitement, they can be overpowering and
careless about detail.

The typical Sagittarian is very honest and direct, both in speech and
action. They can be restless and seek out new challenges and tend
to aim high with their boundless energy.

Sagittarians seek patterns in order to make sense of life. They
undertake a quest to find faith and meaning. They are naturally
optimistic, with a happy-go-lucky nature, progressive and open
minded.

The gemstone associated with Sagittarius is topaz, and the metal is
tin. The colors are dark blue and purple. The animal is the horse.
Their flower is the carnation and dandelions. The body part of the
Sag is the thighs. The countries are Spain, Australia, Hungary,
South Africa, Arabia and Yugoslavia.

So, there you have it my bloggy friends. This wraps up a whole
year of spotlighting the signs of the zodiac. Hope you enjoyed this
series. Happy Birthday to all my bloggy Sagi friends, and
especially my dear uncle, [The Bach], whose birthday is today. You
will find his handsome picture in the dictionary, under Sagittarius.

snow...Snow...SNow...SNOW

[Alan's Sepia Saturday] has been a huge success. I am thoroughly
enjoying all the wonderful history and vintage family photos shared
in the bloggyhood these past few weeks. My snowy sepia photo today
is of my Great-Grandmother, Ida Belle Lewis Hanna, (center) seated
on a sled with her two sons, Bright (left) and my Grandfather Chester
(right). It was taken some time in the mid-1920's on Stockwell Farm,
Howard Co., Indiana.

My sweet grandfather passed away two years ago at the ripe old age
of 93. I miss him dearly. He was a computer savvy guy and emailed
me almost every day until the few weeks before his brief illness.
Just yesterday, I received a wonderfully hand written Christmas
letter from the spry 93 year old Uncle Bright. I hope I have
inherited the longevity DNA from this side of the family. Bright is a
family name, by the way, the surname of his German paternal
grandmother.

And, speaking of sleds and snow, guess what I woke up to this

morning? Yup. Two inches of the glorious white stuff. This is the

magical view from my bedroom window. I love when the snow stays

on the branches, like they've been dipped in powdered sugar.

.

Here's what I see from my kitchen windows, and the back looks like

a winter wonderland with the snow covered trees and rock wall.

As you can see, I am in complete snow ecstasy this morning. Now, if

this will only stick until Christmas, my friends, I'll be having a white

one.

three ships

Christmas just wouldn't be he same without listening to that smooth,

smokey voice of Nat King Cole. That opening line "chestnuts roasting

on an open fire" summons my holiday spirit. The familiarity of his

comforting voice, makes me feel all woolly inside, and says that all is

as it should be.

.

This season, the lyrics to one of the songs on the album, I Saw Three

Ships, got my pesky etymological juices flowing. I can't say why I've

not thought of it before, but what's it all about? Bethlehem is

certainly land locked, and there is no mention of ships in the biblical

story.

.

The tune of this carol is a traditional English folk song and the lyrics

were written by wandering minstrels as they travelled through the

country. In the original version of the carol, the three ships were the

ones taking the supposed skulls of the wise men to Cologne

Cathedral in Germany. Hmm. That's festive.

.

There are various versions of the song today, but they all involve

three ships. After doing a little poking around, here are some

possible meanings:

.

.

1) The arrival of ships is a symbol of good luck. They represent

prosperity and wealth, a wish bestowed for the holiday season,

since England was, at the time, a very sea oriented country.

.

2) The song is upbeat and happy. It expresses excitement about the

coming of the Christ child, much like the anticipation of a ship coming

in to port.

.

3) The three ships represent the three wise men who came sailing

in on their "ships of the desert", as camels are sometimes referred to,

to pay a visit to the holy family.

.

4) The three ships represent the holy family, Jesus, Mary and Joseph.

It's a disguised defense of Catholicism.

.

5) Ritson in his Scotch Songs quotes the following lines, stating they

were sung during the Christmas holidays about the middle of the

sixteenth century.

.

There comes a ship far sailing then,

Saint Michel was the stieres-man

Saint John sat in the horn:

Our Lord harped, our Lady sang,

And all the bells of heaven they rang,

On Christ’s sonday at morn.

.

This suggests that perhaps the ships were angelic ones, protecting

the Lady and her child, and delivering them on Christmas morning.

.

6) The holy trinity, Father, Son and Holy Spirit are represented as

the three ships carrying the Christ child to Bethlehem.

.

.

Here are the lyrics we are most familiar with today:

.

I saw three ships come sailing in,

On Christmas day, on Christmas day,

I saw three ships come sailing in,

On Christmas day in the morning.

.

And what was in those ships all three?

On Christmas day, on Christmas day,

And what was in those ships all three?

On Christmas day in the morning.

.

Our Saviour Christ and his lady

On Christmas day, on Christmas day,

Our Saviour Christ and his lady,

On Christmas day in the morning.

.

Pray whither sailed those ships all three?

On Christmas day, on Christmas day,

Pray whither sailed those ships all three?

On Christmas day in the morning.

.

Oh, they sailed into Bethlehem,

On Christmas day, on Christmas day,

Oh, they sailed into Bethlehem,

On Christmas day in the morning.

.

And all the bells on earth shall ring,

On Christmas day, on Christmas day,

And all the bells on earth shall ring,

On Christmas day in the morning.

.

And all the Angels in Heaven shall sing,

On Christmas day, on Christmas day,

And all the Angels in Heaven shall sing,

On Christmas day in the morning.

.

And all the souls on earth shall sing,

On Christmas day, on Christmas day,

And all the souls on earth shall sing,

On Christmas day in the morning.

.

Then let us all rejoice, amain,

On Christmas day, on Christmas day,

Then let us all rejoice, amain,

On Christmas day in the morning.

.

William Sandys, Christmas Carols Ancient and Modern

London: Richard Beckley, 1833

.

.

.

I'm much anticipating the arrival at the land locked manor of my

own three little ships this coming week. So, this carol as taken on an

entirely new meaning for me. Hope you enjoy the events in your port

of call this Christmas season, as well. ~x

.

photo borrowed from Flickr

history

Enough

.

.

Mine is more
than just penny loafers,
and knee socks.

It's buckskin leggin's,
moose hair moccasins,
face paint, hair beads,

the loyal uniform
of South Carolina,
yellow captain's patch
and Yankee doodle.

It's muslin skirts
and lace up boots,
under soiled aprons
and a fresh batch
of determination.

It's dungarees,
sweat on the brow,
dirt under rough
nails and plow
of the pioneer spirit,

fueled by raw hell-fire
circuit preachers
with their backward collars,
and the keen eyes

of Hoosier surveyors
and photographers,
shaded with kerchief ties
and straw hats;

and it's enough.
Mine is a wardrobe
of America.

.

.

.

willow, 2009

.

.

For more Theme Thursday participants click [HERE].

.

image from Flickr by zombielace

no snow

Since I am sitting here in my Zhivago hat, and there is nary a
snowflake in sight, I am forced to take matters into my own hands
and create my own wintry atmosphere. So, turning to the winter
section of my little film library, I pulled out the magnificent
adaptation of David Guterson's acclaimed book, Snow Falling on
Cedars.


Australian director Scott Hicks works some fabulous artistic magic
with lots of dreamy compositions and textures. This film is a feast for
the senses. Set in the beautiful Pacific Northwest, it's the story of a
young fisherman who was found dead in his own nets. A Japanese
American war hero is accused of his murder. His wife is the former
childhood sweetheart of a young newspaperman, played by Ethan
Hawke. The legendary Max von Sydow, one of my personal favorites,
is of course, wonderful as the aging defense attorney, and gives a
brilliant soliloquy in the trial scene.

This film is not only a murder mystery and tender love story, but it
addresses the persecution of the Japanese Americans and
immigrants during World War II. This seething bigotry serves as the
psychological backdrop for the post-war trial.

I absolutely love this elegant, intelligent, snowy movie. It's a woolly
sockser, with plenty of gorgeous snow. It's the next best thing to the
real stuff. So, snuggle up with the woollies, some hot chocolate, and
enjoy. I might just have to pop in Doctor Zhivago tonight.

doppelgänger

Poetikat used the delightful word doppelgänger in a wonderful haiku last week. I commented how much I liked the word and she quickly suggested I should post on the subject. After doing a bit of research, I found the word to be even more intriguing than I first thought.

dop·pel·gäng·er, noun

Etymology: German Doppelgänger,
from doppel- double + -gänger goer

Date: 1851

1 : a ghostly counterpart of a living person
2 a : double
2 b : alter ego
2 c : a person who has the same name as another

In the vernacular, the word doppelgänger has come to refer to any double or look-alike of a person. Well, you know, I couldn't let this pass without mentioning the Deppster and me. The jury is still out on whether we share the same Cherokee great-great-grandmother. We do, however, look quite a lot alike. I guess it's safe to say he and I, though we might not actually be cousins, we most definitely are doppelgängers.

The word is also used to describe the sensation of having glimpsed oneself in peripheral vision, in a position where there is no chance it could have been a reflection. In some traditions, a doppelgänger seen by a person's friends or relatives portends illness or danger, while seeing one's own doppelgänger is an omen of death. In Norse mythology, a vardøger is a ghostly double who precedes a living person and is seen performing their actions in advance.

Since I am a huge Lincoln buff, the story of the president seeing his own doppelgänger caught my attention. Here is an excerpt from Carl Sandburg's biography:


A dream or illusion had haunted Lincoln at times through the winter. On the evening of his election he had thrown himself on one of the haircloth sofas at home, just after the first telegrams of November 7 had told him he was elected President, and
looking into a bureau mirror across the room he saw himself full length, but with two faces.

It bothered him; he got up; the illusion vanished; but when he lay down again there in the glass again were two faces, one paler than the other. He got up again, mixed in the election
excitement, forgot about it; but it came back, and haunted him. He told his wife about it; she worried too.

A few days later he tried it once more and the illusion of the two faces again registered to his eyes. But that was the last; the ghost since then wouldn't come back, he told his wife, who said it was a sign he would be elected to a second term, and the death
pallor of one face meant he wouldn't live through his second term.


Spooky, huh? But, Lincoln was known to be superstitious, and old mirrors can be known to produce double images. Whether this Janus illusion can be counted as a doppelgänger is perhaps debatable. An alternate consideration, suggests that Lincoln suffered vertical strabismus in his left eye, a disorder which could induce visions of a vertically displaced image.

For the accounts of other famous reports of doppelgängers, including Percy Bysshe Shelley, John Donne, Johann Wolfgang von Goethe, and Emilie Sagée click [HERE].

winnie on ice

(click to enlarge)

This photo was taken around 1905 in Ervin Township, Howard Co., Indiana, by the brother of the lady on the right, who is my great-great-aunt, Winifred "Winnie" Hanna, fondly known to us as "Auntie". If you look closely, you can see all three have their ice skates in tow. My best guess is they're off for an afternoon of fun, skating on the frozen Wild Cat Creek.

Winnie's two friends are Ava Everman (left) and Vella Hendrix (center). All three were born in the early 1880's and lived well into the 1970's. You might guess that Winnie is the youngest of the three, but in this case, smallest doesn't necessarily mean youngest. She was the tiniest little woman, who wore a size 4 shoe and stood under 5 feet in her stocking feet. Auntie never married, or had children, but she was always so very kind to all her nieces and nephews, and

embraced them as her own.

I remember her cute, neat-as-pin bungalow in Kokomo, Indiana. The hardwood floors were so highly polished, I would invariably go flying on the throw rugs every time I visited. Auntie was an excellent cook. I have never tasted a peach pie quite as delicious as hers. When I was a girl, she gave me several books, inscribed in the flyleaf, in small curly hand, "From Auntie", and still have them in my library today.

Speaking of Auntie's book inscriptions, as a strange synchronicity, my father actually stumbled onto one of Auntie's books in a random antique store in Illinois. Just pulled a book from the shelf, and there was her sweet handwriting, with her name on the flyleaf, as if it were calling his name.

Winnie and Neva

Shortly after the death of her sister, Neva, in 1971, Auntie gave me Neva's rose gold engagement ring. I have worn it nearly every day since I was 15, and can feel the positive energies of these dear ladies through this lovely treasure.

For more Sepia Saturday participants click [HERE].

bewitching woolly-socks flick

When I put the tree up last weekend, I brought out my little library of holiday films. I had forgotten Bell, Book and Candle had been tucked away with the others. It's the 1958 romantic comedy based on the hit Broadway play by John Van Druten. Jimmy Stewart and Kim Novak are once again paired, after their success as a duo in Hitchcock's Vertigo.

Set during the holidays, Novak plays a Greenwich Village witch, who casts a love spell on the unsuspecting Stewart. Elsa Lanchester and Jack Lemmon add lots of hilariously quirky humor to the cast. Rumor has it, that this movie was the inspiration for the TV series Bewitched. There are too many striking similarities, including Lanchester's betrayal as a bumbling witchy aunt, of the Aunt Agatha variety.

This is a stylish film with great mod sets, and Novak's fabulous clothes. Although, not quite as elegant as Edith Head's creations for Vertigo, they are still a joy to behold. There is one stunning black evening dress which is so Madame X. My favorite is a deep red velvet hooded cape, with a matching rosy red fur muff. Though out the film, she wears tons of wonderful garnet jewelry. (Which reminds me, it's the season for my favorite vintage Prague garnet earrings.)

There's lots of snowy shots of lovely old 1950's New York, including a spare aerial shot of Central Park. Plus, to top it off, Novak owns a shop dealing in African art, which is right up my alley. Yup, you guessed it. This is most definitely a woolly-socks flick, so kick 'em up and enjoy. You're going to want to add this one to your traditional holiday collection.

And, it's impossible to mention garnets, any time of year, without being reminded of this beautiful poem by Janet Frame .

In a Garnet World


In a garnet world
something troubles the rock
--a rash, an itching dazzle
that will not sleep or be soothed,
a night sky of stars without sky
or night; and stars that sting.

This rock once unseen
in its river of ice, is now sick.
A man climbing cloud-high
caught human sight of it
brought to it this blood-colored incurable
infection of light.

snow

Nature's tidying
up again,
with her blanket
of soft forgiveness.

Like Huck Finn,
she's white washed
my human fence
with her sacred vows
of chastity.

Flaws are hidden
for a night
in silent equality,
while pure delight
of holy communion

melts on my tongue,
and makes me giddy
in the sacraments
of winter.



willow, 2009

For more Theme Thursday participants click [HERE].

photo from tumblr.com

deckin' the halls

The Christmas tree is officially up at the manor. I spent most of

Sunday afternoon fluffing and tweaking. No pressies are wrapped

yet, though. Wrapping and stacking under the tree is one of my

tasks for this week. My first choice of tree would be a big fat live

one with all the wonderful natural scent and essence, but a few years

back we purchased a pre-lit artificial tree. I'll have to admit, it's quite

nice not having to untangle that ubiquitous massive knot of lights.

.

Besides, I go a little nutzoids and load it down with so much stuff,

you can't see the tree, anyway. I've been collecting vintage

ornaments for about 30 years, now. WT has brought back quite a

few unique ones from Eastern Europe. Last year, my uncle me some

wonderful old bulbs that adorned my dear grandmother's tree in

tiny Burlington, Indiana. These treasures feel right at home on my

manor tree.

.

I also have a stack of antique holiday postcards I traditionally tuck

among the branches. This year, it struck me how lovely some were

on the reverse, with the vintage stamps and quirky, festive hand

written messages. So, I placed several with the written side showing.

Since I'm all about correspondence, this made me incredibly happy.

I'm such a sappy romantic. My very favorite ornaments of all are a

few the kids made when they were small. Tears well up each time I

hang the tiny, sweet, tweedy mitten that belonged to my oldest son.

pen pals and flyleaves

Did anyone else enjoy the evening of pen pal flicks on Turner Classic Movies last night? The opening film was one of my all time faves, 84, Charing Cross Road, the adaptation from the book by Helene Hanff, a collection of witty and touching letters between a charmingly sarcastic New Yorker and a straight laced, London book shop proprietor, from the 1940's to the 1960's. What starts as Hanff'squest for obscure classic books, develops into an intimate relationship, in the form of correspondence, between Hanff and the book shop's staff. The film combines two subjects I adore, books and letters.

The current blogging phenomenon has enriched the practice of pen pals on so many levels. When we used to have to wait weeks for a response, we instantly share thoughts and ideas with hundreds of international friends. My life has certainly been brightened and enriched by this amazing new form of multi-faceted pen palling.

This TCM presentation was a special treat, since my own DVD copy happens to be a dreaded "pan-and-scanned" version, which I absolutely abhor. (Please don't get me started on this subject.) Anyway, the lovely widescreen presentation was crisp, colorful and as the director intended.

The proprietorship of my dreams is that of Marks & Co., which is no longer there, by the way, but is sadly replaced by a wine bar, and a plaque marking the former shop. I can see myself contentedly overseeing row upon row of books, tucked in this cozy nook of a shop, filled with the scent of must, dust, age, and floors of wood.

There is a touching scene in which Hanff (played by the delightful Anne Bancroft) receives a book of poetry in the mail from Frank Doel (perfectly performed by Anthony Hopkins), in which Doel has tenderly inscribed a message on the flyleaf.

Contrary to what I may have implied, by my disappointment in the second hand copy of Charles Simic's Early Poems, being completely hacked up by words being crossed out and notes written, not only in the margins, but over the text, I actually do love to find endearing inscriptions in the flyleaves of books. They are small personal treasures left behind for us to enjoy. I must remember to inscribe each gift book I give this Christmas.

Here is one particularly romantic treat, I found inscribed in the front of a leather bound first edition of Renascence and Other Poems, 1917, by Edna St. Vincent Millay, last summer in my favorite second hand bookshop, you know, the one with the creaky hardwood floors.

Life seeming only half-lived,

Futile, forlorn, forsaken,

Die swiftly into the moonlight,

Be born again in this pages,

Languid and lovely forever,

The idol of a dreaming youth,

His Lady of Satin and Silver.

Ray

June 1932

friends

Poppins friends are godsends,
blown in by the wind,
when the time is right.

Without rhyme or reason,
they work their wit and magic,
with spoonfuls of sugar,
to help the medicine go down.

They sail in like kites,
unload carpet bags of clever tricks,
make things right for a season,
until the jet stream changes.

Then, overnight, they pop open umbrellas
and drift away, until another day.

Maybe never to return.



willow, 2009




image by Tyra at redbubble



(for answers to my "truth or fiction", check updated post, below)

truth or fiction

I've seen this going around the blogosphere and thought I'd give it a
whirl. The following is a list of ten things about myself, one of which
happens to be fiction. See if you can guess which one is stretching the
truth, but only a tad. Now, no fair telling, those of you who know me
personally. (I've added the answers below.)

1) In kindergarten, I loved to scare the other kids by flipping out my
plate of four front false teeth. My current teeth, however, are mine.

TRUE. I fell and knocked out my front teeth at age three; my retainer had teeth.

2) I drive a dark green 1996 Land Rover Discovery.

TRUE. I love how it plows through a foot of snow in a 150 foot driveway.

3) On hot summer days, I'm known to bathe outside in a horse
watering trough.

TRUE. No neighbors nearby. Lots of suds.

4) I was on NHK radio talk show in Japan.

TRUE. It was an interview many years ago.

5) I bite my nails.

TRUE. I know. I know. Nasty habit.

6) I'm related to Johnny Depp; we both share the same Cherokee
great-great grandmother.

UNPROVEN. Although, we DO both have Cherokee great-great grandmothers.

7) My youngest son weighed 10 pounds 3 ounces at birth.

TRUE. Not Cesarean. I don't recommend it.

8) I was in Warsaw, Poland exactly 20 years ago when the Berlin Wall
came down.

TRUE. I was traveling with WT on business. I'll never forget the euphoric aura.

9) I once owned my own catering business.

TRUE. I was heavily into catering in the mid '90s. Extremely hard work.

10) I'm pretty good amazing at shooting clay pigeons.

TRUE. Believe it or not, I'm a natural. Pull!!
.
.

Mr. Toast's Tea

I am writing to you from Aspen, where I am preparing for the long
anticipated Mr. Toast's first annual Christmas Tea. I have decided to
go with the "Anna Karenina" look this year, since I am all about
simple wintry Russian elegance. Thankfully, I am finally relishing the
lovely snow I have been waiting for all year. Oh, I do hope Mr. Toast
serves tea in those wonderful Russian podstakanniki tea glass holders.


Since I'm in the mood for all things Russian, my date for the evening
is none other than the dashing Omar Sharif, fresh off the set of the
Doctor Zhivago Christmas Eve dance scene. I know. I know. He's
not really Russian, but I'm calling him "Yuri", anyway. He has me
completely under his spell with those mesmerizing dark eyes. Stand
back all; he is mine for the evening. After Toast's Tea, the night will
still be young. Yuri's sleigh is parked outside, with my mink muff
warm, and plenty of the best Russian vodka waiting.
.

To check out all of the charming Mr. Toast's intriguing guests, as

well as sip some delicious mulled wine, and nibble fabulous food

click [HERE], Tuesday, December 1st.