January 31, 2010

the sight of the blue

The world today is blue and white: the morning sky and yesterday's snow. 

My love of blue and white was born when I saw my first piece of Blue Willow china.  I bought the whole box of platters and plates for a song, and continued collecting until it became popular, and priced out of my range.

I still love this palette; there's always room for blue.

mouse over images for source; top photo by friend Helen, Pentlands, Scotland

If the sight of the blue skies fills you with joy, 
if a blade of grass springing up in the fields has power to move you, 
if the simple things in nature have a message you understand, 
Rejoice, for your soul is alive. 
- Eleanora Duse 


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January 28, 2010

select well among old things

Have you all seen the sweet and lovely shop of Little Byrd Vintage? There's so much goodness over there, all just the right amount of old and used and worn, not too much, not too little, but very much like Baby Bear's bed: it's juuuuust right!

Go see for yourself, Goldilocks! This here is just a tiny sample:

all photos: littlebyrdvintage

To select well among old things, is almost equal
 to inventing new ones. - Nicholas Charles Trublet

p.s. We close on the sale of our house tomorrow. Wheeee!


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January 27, 2010

happy me!

We got the house...we close next week, and move by the 10th!


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January 26, 2010

mix the light into gray

It's been snowing here, on and off, for what seems like weeks, broken here and there by a few days of unseasonable warmth so there's no accumulation. The sky is gray with clouds, and the air is white with snow. It suits me, this enchanted melancholy.

mouse over images for source

It's an art to live with pain... mix the light into gray. 
- Eddie Vedder


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January 25, 2010

For Henry, 2002 -2010

Henny Penny, puddin' pie...


The time you won your town the race
We chaired you through the market-place;
Man and boy stood cheering by,
And home we brought you shoulder-high.

Today, the road all runners come,
Shoulder-high we bring you home,
And set you at your threshold down,
Townsman of a stiller town.

Smart lad, to slip betimes away
From fields where glory does not stay,
And early though the laurel grows
It withers quicker than the rose.

Eyes the shady night has shut
Cannot see the record cut,
And silence sounds no worse than cheers
After earth has stopped the ears:

Now you will not swell the rout
Of lads that wore their honours out,
Runners whom renown outran
And the name died before the man.

So set, before its echoes fade,
The fleet foot on the sill of shade,
And hold to the low lintel up
The still-defended challenge-cup.

And round that early-laurelled head
Will flock to gaze the strengthless dead,
And find unwithered on its curls
The garland briefer than a girl's.


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January 24, 2010

faces that peer over my shoulder

Today we walked in the wet woods, all grey with hints of palest green. The dogwoods are beginning to bud - yes, so soon! - and signs of Spring are there, if you know where to look.

Grey and green is one of my favorite color combinations, calm, introspective, pensive. Like the woods today.

mouse over images for source

“My yesterdays walk with me. They keep step, 
they are gray faces that peer over my shoulder.” 
- William G. Golding


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