A Beautiful Day . . . For Turning 50

This morning began with a sleep-in, listening to the wind and rain. I love a good thunderstorm! The leaves from the maple trees were plastered against the windows.

20131101-161448.jpg
Now the afternoon is balmy with blue skies, and the maple filters the sunlight.

20131101-161654.jpg
Tonight I’ll celebrate with family and friends. Turning 50 isn’t so bad–and as both my husband and my father have reminded me, it beats the alternative!

Flowers In The Vacation House

Finally, a few days out of the office after months of insanely busy work. Since the temperature is supposed to dip below freezing tonight, I decided to scrounge around the yard and see if I could join in on the Flowers In The House party over at SmallButCharming. There are lots of lovely flowers there; go take a look!

My lavender is having a last hurrah, so I rounded up some sage, thyme, Thai basil, dusty miller, a few tiny spirea blooms and one last lovely aster and squeezed it all into a blue mason jar on the windowsill.

20131023-151551.jpg Felix stopped by for a sniff. It is a very fragrant bouquet!

20131023-151710.jpg I can’t resist the gorgeous leaves that drop like gems onto my walkway from the flame maple we planted a few years back. Here they are on the mantle along with some snips of coleus, sweet potato vine, and fading sedum. The long-stemmed dish was my maternal grandmother’s; I love the golden glass with the autumn leaves.

20131023-152318.jpg

Paper Doll Memories

Tags

, ,

The other night at band rehearsal, the lyrics of a song reminded me and my band mates (my sister and a childhood friend) of the paper dolls we used to make as children. Some prowling around in a box of memorabilia in my basement unearthed a battered tin Sucrets box. Remember Sucrets– those powerful little beige lozenges that would make our eyes water and our tongues numb? Inside the box was the paper doll baby, about the size of a quarter, that I made about 40 years ago, complete with a tiny baby wardrobe. Some little moment of my childhood self is captured in those teeny scraps of paper, which is why, after all these years, I’ve never been able to bring myself to toss them.

20131006-152212.jpg