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Life on St. Martin's Hill - May 2009
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15 July 2009
Things I Love, and Why I Love These Things
Hazelnut iced coffee. I just love the flavor and perfect balance of bitter & sweet.
Mock orange blossoms. I love these because of their fragrance.
And profusion.
Some kind of doo-dad, hanger-upper, thingey.
I love this because it's chanda-leery.
Antique locker basket. Love the colors of the vintage floss. And the crinkled wire used to form the basket.
A mixture of shell buttons, vintage Swiss ribbonry, molded frames, and a
dusty tussie mussie.
I love these because they're red. And I love the phrase 'dusty tussie mussie'.
Try saying that three times.
New paint color. Old shabby garland.
Love it just because.
Vintage barkcloth, millinery flowers, rhinestones, and trims.
Every one of us loves this stuff.
Heirloom Mock Orange blossoms from our west-facing tree.
I love the shape of this bouquet.
I love the crystal stemware that holds it together.
I love the story of what happened to its mate.
I broke it years ago. But I loved the sound it made when it hit the floor.
Probably the only one who'll ever say that about an eighty dollar piece of stemware.
Antique chiffarobe. Original peach paint.
I love its color, and that it's perfectly aged.
Vintage embroidery.
The colors are exquisite, and my weakness lies in the clusters.
Our dog.
I don't know why I love this.
I really don't.
* * *
6 July 2009
Raiments of the Day
I glanced at the clock; 1:04am. The house was dark with sleeping occupants, and I, I lay awake with my thoughts.
I stared at the harbor lights along the shoreline, and saw remnants of tiny fireworks floating over the bay.
If I had to write about this day, what would I say?
So many noteworthy things, but to sum it up short enough for anyone to remain interested, there just wasn't anything that stood out in particular.
I thought back to the begining, to early last week when we knew we were having family come for a visit. That's when it really all started.
The planning. The laundry. Housekeeping and Maintenance.
The remembrance of how Andrew and I always divide up the chores to be done.
Then there was the decorating. I pulled out bins of red, white, and blue items without rhyme or reason. Glitter followed, and once the glue gun was turned on, there was no stopping me.
Decorations went in the antique shop, they found their way into the town's oldest cafe (1886), then the veranda got a healthy dose, and then my own home.
The morning of the 4th came. We got up early and ran down to the cafe to help set up the coney island stand. And finish decorating.
Soon we had shiny foil stars hanging on our heads, draped around our necks, and with the top down on the convertible, we looked like a bunch of teenage kids.
Tons of candy, more than I remember the previous year, had been scattered along the parade route. Parents were with their children, happily smiling and pointing when Smokey Bear came by, the heavily plummaged band, and Sasquatch.
And then the afternoon was thick with BBQ charcoal burning, the smell of sparklers, and windy water.
Then silence. Town was quiet. People napping, or reclining on their porches watching the half-moons of sailboats drift by.
We roused at dusk, gathered our blankets and lawn chairs, our 3-D fireworks glasses (only twenty-five cents each!), Diet Coke, and camera and bunked ourselves directly under the colored stars.
* * * * *
24 June 2009
Mixing Prints
For some time now, I've admired those with skills and confidence enough to mix different patterns together. For Christmas, I received a book called 'Bazaar Style' that completely embraces this concept.
I collected from all the high corners of my house, these seemingly unmatchable fabrics, and made them into pillows. Some lightweight brocade in Antique Gold, an Indienne print in lively turquoise, and for embellishment, an old dresser scarf.
The result was, to me, amazing. My first hurdle was to mentally break away from the concept of 'matchy-matchy'. That is more difficult than it sounds, especially when growing up with a mother who sewed everything in my bedroom to match, including: curtains, bedsheets, pillows, shams, a comforter, even a dress that I wore.
So now, my next challenge is to use this floral pattern in some near-future project.
Lovely salmon blooms, mixed with vibrant pinks, and yellow gold.
I have already assembled a pile: olive green velvet, antique gold velvet, and a scrap of tangerine barkcloth.
This will be interesting.
* * * * *
23 June 2009
Stealing the Show on the Magic Carpet
"There's a little kid in our yard picking flowers," Andrew said, staring out the window in the Red Room.
Curious, I looked out to where he pointed.
Yes, there he was, not more than four years old, standing in the middle of our biggest patch of tulips called Magic Carpet. Only he wasn't picking anything when I saw him.
He was just standing there.
Staring.
One hand was already full of flowers, but he continued to stare at all the remaining flowers around him, perhaps trying to decide which one was next. It was a magical discovery for him, to be sure, and not unlike Dorothy and her Poppy Field on the way to Oz.
Instinct would have had me open my mouth to yell out some reprimand, but wisdom-that-came-from-no-where held me back.
As he stood looking and thinking, I stood watching him and thinking.
Thinking back to when I was in first grade.
That huge house on the hill.
The one that was surrounded by flowers.
I'd pass that house every day on my way to school, and wish that I could have one of those brightly colored tulips.
But I was chicken.
Until one day, quite out of the blue, I decided to make a bold run for it.
Oh, was that ever exhilarating! The climb, the selection, the retrieval, the retreat!
It was a gigantic red tulip! Oh-so-lovely, and I kept it in my desk all day long!
So now I stood there in both the past, and the present, wondering what was the right thing to do.
So, well hidden from view, I deepened my voice.
"Hello, young man. This is God."
Little Boy looked around, then upward in amazement.
"Are you picking those flowers for your mother?"
He shook his head, "No, for my dad."
God continued to speak, "That's very thoughtful of you. But next time you want some flowers, you need to ask permission for them first. Okay? Just knock on the door and ask."
Little Boy nodded his head, looking with huge blue eyes toward the sky.
After he left, I went outside and stood looking at all those gorgeous tulips.
And then I picked an armful.
I couldn't help it.
* * *
16 June 2009
Two Word Sentances; A Diary of Where I've Been,
Or What I've Done,
and Stuff Like That.
Teal cabins.
Storm coming.
Made pillows.
Silk worms.
Day drive.
Painted room.
Cobalt cabins.
Warmer weather.
Dairy Queen.
Fluffy flower.
Almost dead.
Still lovely.
Really sick.
Flu sick.
Almost dead.
Monsella tulip.
Basement floods.
Company comes.
Taking pictures.
Every day.
Love it.
Cutting flowers.
Smelling flowers.
Every morning.
Nutmeg brown.
Iced coffees.
Every day.
Nature calling.
Babies born.
Mama's mad.
Rare tulips.
Cleaned basement.
Sick again.
Planted herbs.
Blog updated.
Good times.
* * *
17 May 2009
Thirteen Photos for Thirteen Years
Bubby Blackstone Dietrich Douglas,
aka Mr. Birthday Boy.
Thirteen years, is that something like 84 dog years?
Many a time to enjoy the lawn,
And always on the look-out for birds and bunnies.
Spring 2003
Time to steal a snack, because I know that there are no repercussions.
See, because if I get caught doing something bad, (and this is a total secret so don't tell anybody) I just walk REALLY REALLY SLOWLY. Like tiptoe real QUIETLY to the upstairs. See, humans see things based on speed. The slower you are, the less they'll notice. You can pretty much get away with anything using this method.
August 2006.
But the alternate method to cope with getting caught is to make absolutely certain that you display an utter look of guilt afterwards.
Now see here, another camping trip. The convertible is packed to the gills, and although I am completely filthy-dirty, I refuse to ride in anyone else's car. . .June 2006.
Antagonizing Little Brother. Again. Christmas 2004.
And finding Little Brother equally useful as a cushion, Summer 2004.
Don't I look awesome? Yeh, I'm PRETTY AWESOME! Christmas 2004.
Please don't make a credit card of me in this photo. I don't know what my tongue was thinking at the time.
Spring 2006.
Now see, this is what I do most mornings: stand in a threatening pose, and have a stair stare down with Little Brother.
Easter 2008.
Just hangin out on my porch with Mama.
Last week, 2009.
And, second only to notorious snacking, my first love is sleeping.
Winter 2003.
Yup, it's a dog's life, and this was my life yesterday.
You all should try it.
Seriously.
* * *
15 May 2009
The Day the Camera Died
Above is the last known shot that survived.
After that, everything went a little delirious.
Colorful is good, but there are 4 year olds in town that would claim they could do better.
I've taken, literally, thousands of pictures with Mr. Camera.
Beads, boys, dogs and kids.
Kids at the lake. Kids on my porch. Kids in my backyard,
and kids climbing all over my dogs.
Mr. Camera, you've documented weather, nature, our gardens, and our holidays.
You preserved milestone moments, and those unexpected.
You've been on-call for years, not ever complaining about having to get up early, or the
'. . .are we there yet?'
You've seen the shipwrecks, the sunbaked cliffs, our camping trips, and many a broken-down building. You witnessed all my art: the good, the bad, and the really really bad.
And for that, and that alone, I'll let you off the hook.
* * * * *
13 May 2009
Debutantes
It all began with a private dinner at the new cafe.
No detail overlooked.
Even thought of snazzy aprons.
Some pre-dinner dancing.
Ghost style.
Me: Ladies, come to the edge and pretend to look out over a balcony in Italy.
Them: Oh my GOSH, it's friggin' freezing out here!
Mother: Hurry up, It's freezing out here!
Daughter: It's not that bad.
Everybody say 'Awwwwww'.
Beautiful silhouette. Terrible background.
I will find a way to edit this.
Everybody say 'Awwwwwww' again.
Me: Okay ladies, hang onto the veil and when the wind blows, I'll snap the picture.
Them: Oh my GOSH! People are driving by and STARING at us!
(nervous giggling).
Another moment in time saved for posterity.
Another moment in time to savor the past.
I was just glad to be there.
For both.
* * * * *
6 May 2009
'Lellow Ladies
They're trying. . . .
. . .just a little bit more, girls.
* * *
4 May 2009
End of an Era
As one chapter closes, another has already begun.
Of growing older it's inevitable to have regrets. Yet life gives us chance after chance of reliving the joyous moments of our youth. And sometimes we discover, quite by surprise, that our memories are fonder than what we'd remembered.
And when given the chance, we happily participate in special rites of passage because of our own histories.
The gathering of family traveling from far and wide, its smiles of celebration, and a moment all to oneself to shine in the afterglow.
It's that feeling of being special, the sense of accomplishment, and that innocent wonder of
What's next?
And truly, it's anyone's guess. . .
* * *
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