The Impromptu Dinner Party

The first of last week, a client of mine came over to approve some handmade tile for a project. As we were chatting to coordinate the visit, I invited her to dinner.

"You are coming a long way. Please stay for dinner. It will be no big deal ~ homemade macaroni and cheese, Caesar salad, a baguette and some red wine."

As we lingered over dinner, she mentioned that her birthday was next week; that she was not looking forward to it and could she spend it with me.

"Absolutely," I said. "Let me work out the details and we'll set it up." In the interim, a friend of a friend sent me an email ~ Heidi – why am I only now discovering your blog? It’s fabulous and I’m subscribed so I can get all your decorating secrets. I LOVE, LOVE, LOVE the kitchen cabinet fix up! Someday I want you to invite me to come see your house so I can copy all your brilliant ideas.  XOXO  Liz

All week long as I met with friends and close colleagues, I invited them to come for dinner. I invited Byron on the way back from the Elwha Dam removal documentary. I called my friend, Audrey, on Bainbridge to see if she was going to be in town. Then, Karen and her husband, Ron. In my brain, it started out as four and, as the week wore on, it ended up with eight.

What to fix? Comfort food. It's been raining like hell all week. Beyond drizzle. As I watched the rain sheet down the windows, I thought ~ potato soup with celery and artichokes with maybe some freshly smoked salmon crumbled on it, some crusty bread, some brie, wine.

I went to the store and bought a whole wild-caught Sockeye salmon, had it filleted, brought it home and grilled it on a cedar plank. Pink and smoky. Oh, yum! The potato soup was easy. While I don't consider myself such a red-hot cook, I do have lovely dishes and they just don't get out enough. So, I brought out the demitasse, the liqueur glasses, the Majolica cabbage soup tureen, the linen napkins ~ the whole shootin' match.

Byron brought an apple strudel pie just warm out of his oven. Laura brought a wonderful chocolate number and a couple of quarts of nice ice cream. Everyone brought a nice bottle of wine. And, we celebrated not just one but two birthdays ~ Laura, my client and Audrey, my dear friend.

At the end of my shopping trip, I had stopped at the store and bought everyone a lottery ticket and tucked it under each plate. Much hilarity ensued. We might be dining with a multimillionaire. What would you do with the money?

The impromptu dinner party? A group of strangers met for dinner and left as friends. At the end of the evening, we were discussing a monthly dinner party. I've always wanted to do that. I'll keep you posted.

Wild Salmon Matter

On Tuesday, I went to see a preview of a documentary of the restoration of an ecosystem ~ Return of the River. A film shot and directed by John Gussman and produced by Jessica Plumb, about the largest dam removal project in history.

The film chronicles the removal of the Elwha Dam in Washington state. After decades of effort and 20 years after Congress authorized its removal, the countless citizens and organizations who have worked to remove the Elwha Dam on the Olympic Peninsula saw their vision realized. Work began on the lower Elwha Dam in September with a blast of dynamite.

Why open the Elwha River? Why restore this ecosystem?

The Great Wild Salmon have run the streams of the Pacific Northwest for millions of years. Their cycle of birth, life, death, and rebirth has tied us to the sea. Their remarkable journey has nourished the forest, fed its wild life and for the last 12,000 years defined the cultural heritage of our region. The Great Wild Salmon have graphically shown us the fragility of our planet and given voice to the old saying, “we all live downstream” as everything finds its way to the ocean.

Over the last 100 years, the Wild Salmon runs on the Elwha River have dwindled from over 400,000 fish to under 3000. In the Pacific Northwest, we know everything about this region we love is directly related to healthy Wild Salmon runs bringing micro-nutrients from the sea to the mountains. Over 400 species benefit from Wild Salmon's heroic migration.

On Tuesday, I heard about the fundraising efforts through Kickstarter.com for Return of the River. I was heartened to hear people from all over the world have donated to support this documentary. People know ~ Wild Salmon matter.

In the Puget Sound, we know Wild Salmon is a cultural cornerstone. The health of Wild Salmon is directly tied to clean water, healthy forests, habitat protection and species diversity. Wild Salmon are abundant when all of these are in place.

This is a time of great hope; a time of great opportunity. With the removal of the Elwha Dam and the restoration of a free flowing river, we are seeing the changing understanding of the importance of protecting clean food sources and wild rivers.

Governor John Kitzhaber of Oregon may have said it best ~

"What is at stake here goes far beyond the issue of salmon recovery. To me, it raises the question of whether we have the courage and the will to reconcile the growing contradiction between the world we say we want to leave our children and the one we are actually creating through the decisions we make today.

And, it calls into question our capacity to take explicit and intentional action to shape our own future rather than to simply react to circumstances, allowing by default our future to become a matter of chance. It's time to fight for Wild Salmon. It's time to fight for us. It's time to fight for our future."

For more information about the Elwha Dam removal ~

Elwha Dam removal illustrates growing movement - The WA Post

Elwha Dam Removal - Elwha River Restoration

For more information about groups working on wild salmon issues in the Pacific Northwest ~
www.greatwildsalmonrun.org click on links

To donate to the documentary ~
 www.kickstarter.com enter Return of the River in the search box.

When Did The Recession Start for You?

This past weekend, my friends and I worked in the yard. As I was teetering on my ladder cleaning the awning over my front door, I remembered . . . I used to have this cleaned.

Once a year, in the spring, I'd get a call from Summerday Awning Service asking me if I'd like to make an appointment to have my awning cleaned. I always said "yes." I mean really, who wouldn't want to do business with a company called "Summerday?" I asked her once if that was just the inspired choice for the name of their awning service business or their real name.

"Yes, it's our real name." Genius.

I want to say it was in 2008 when I got a call from Summerday Awning to set up my annual cleaning that everything changed. I paused. No, I thought. I know it's only $100 but . . . it's a luxury now and I can't afford it. I really need to be mindful of every penny.

I said "no." I must have given her an excuse, but the gist was still ~ NO.

I've thought of Summerday Awning many times over the years hoping they were still in business and that they didn't have too many customers like me saying "no" while they are tap dancing as fast as they can in this economy.

When I talk with friends about when I thought the recession started, I always think of the day I said "no" to Summerday Awning Service. That is when it became crystal clear that I needed to change my spending habits. I think of the toll this downturn (read "depression") has had on small companies around here. People who work hard to grow their businesses but just don't have the resources to withstand the economic uncertainties swirling around. From customers rethinking their expenditures to banks tightening their lending guidelines, small companies have suffered greatly.

The day I'll know this economic mess is over? When I can say "yes" to Summerday Awning Service.

So, to all the Summerdays of the world ~ A Cheer! Here's to your courage, vision and fortitude. It's really you and the tens of thousands like you that give me hope for the future of the country.

Such a Lovely Word ~ Spring! Oh, and . . . Cleaning

This was such a lovely weekend in Seattle. Warm. Sunny.

S*P*R*I*N*G

'Course the thing about spring is the increased light and ~ what the hell! Cobwebs everywhere. Dust. Uck. I guess that's why it's call Spring Cleaning.

On Saturday morning, I decided to tackle the cupboard about my stove. Now, the thing about my kitchen is it's small. I like it very much, but, I don't kid myself. It's minuscule.

When I "remodeled" my kitchen several years ago, I clad the rift cut oak with bead board, replaced the doors of the cupboard above my stove with an old window with true divided lights. Luckily, it was exactly the size of the original doors. Popped right in.

Then, I painted the whole shootin' match the perfect "white." I had this romantic idea of having an interesting display cabinet in my kitchen. After I'd loaded up the cupboard, I realized it was missing visual interest. The cupboard holds my every day dinner dishes. While I'm very fond of celadon, there wasn't enough going on. Dullsville. What it needed? Flavour, please!

Which brings me to the beautiful solution. One of the things one buys when traveling in Italy is a calendar from the little kiosk in Piazza del Duomo. Of course, what do you do with that calendar when the year is up? The images are way too pretty to end up in the recycle bin. Mine ended up in my plan file.

While rummaging around for inspiration, I found my old calendar with botanical images of fruits. Perfect. I lined the entire interior of the cabinet with brown shopping bags turned inside out. Pawing through all my craft supplies in my studio shop which I laughingly call "The Well of Despair," I assembled all my half empty jars of matte medium, my brayer, sharp scissors and got to work.


I deckled the edges of the calendar pages and cut individual fruits to overlay the pages. When I was finished, it did everything I wanted it to do. It was visually interesting, beautiful, and utterly romantic. Best of all, my celadon plates coupled with oxblood porcelain made a show-stopping picture.


I covered the spice shelf with entry tickets and pensione bills from the places we visited and stayed during our trip. Now, when I pull out the sage or the marjoram, I'm reminded of that wonderful life-changing trip my sons and I had.

  

 

Friendly, beautiful, romantic and exactly what I had in mind.

The Pressure Washer ~ Friends with Benefits

It was a lovely day in Seattle yesterday. Mild sunny. Practically spring.

Those of us in the Pacific Northwest are known to rush outside on the first sunny day and lose our minds as we "frolic and detour" out the front door (not in the legal sense, mind you, but in the "it's been raining since October and we've got to get out of the house and put our hands in dirt" sense.) It's true, I've made the mistake of planting basil in April or hurrying to get my starts in the ground. Yup, we're overly enthusiastic about the prospect of warmer days ahead.

A couple of weeks ago, I wrote to my friend Zen about how ghastly my blog photos looked when I really looked at them. I believe I said ~ Did you like all the moss and black slime covering my pots, bench, and limestone? I like to think it's atmospheric and not a filthy disgusting mess.

He responded with his very generous characterization ~ I prefer to think of it as having a rich yet bohemian-like earthiness........much like the patina on the bronze bells of the Cathedral of Notre Dame, or the rich sediment at the bottom of a bottle of Chateau Lafite Rothschild.....I'm thinking a '61........

I decided rich yet Bohemian-like earthiness had to go. Here's the rub: my late husband was Mr. Tool and, because he was a fighter pilot, he was also Mr. Redundant Systems. Unfortunately, after his death, one-by-one all of his small engine equipment died as well. The worst was the pressure washer.

Pressure washing the stone around my house is a completely contemplative thing. Utterly Zen. Struggling with a dead pressure washer is entirely not Zen.

Surprise! To the rescue! My friend Karen and her husband Ron arrived yesterday morning via a big honking truck with the most amazing pressure washer I've ever seen.









We all got to work. Pressure washing the stone and the benches, scrubbing the black slime off the pots, planting the pots with optimistic bright pansies and primroses, cleaning out the scruffy dead stragglers in my little kitchen garden and getting it ready for planting basil and tomatoes in May, raking up the mulch in the perennial beds, filling the bags with yard waste ready for pick-up on Monday morning, scrubbing off the awning.

Heaven!

We worked all afternoon. Then, we made a veggie pizza, opened a bottle of wine and basked in our success.

After they left, I went out and walked around the yard. I love the look of "cared for." Cared for doesn't have to be expensive or chichi. It really is often small.

 

I slept the Sleep of the Righteous, the Contented. Of course, this morning, I can hardly walk, but, that is another story.

The Perils of a Prix Fixes Wedding

This is a blog post that when I look back on it in a couple of years, I will die of embarrassment. It's a cautionary tale. Here are the facts: I have a really, really beautiful home. The grounds are interesting and chock full of pots heaping with flowers. The house is on a nice quiet lane and set back from the road. It's lovely.

Over the years, several friends and family members have held weddings and special occasion events here. All beautiful. All successful.

During the financial crisis and economic downturn (or, as those of us in construction say ~ the depression), I decided to use all my skills and make every aspect of my life a "profit center." Uck, buzz words! Loathe them! I put them all in the category of thoroughly stupid phrases that are designed to make you seem smart, but, generally make you sound like an idiot, i.e., "mission statement," "way finding," "on message," "at the end of the day," "impact," "in my thoughts and prayers," etc. But, I digress . . .

So, I posted my ad on our local Craigslist:

Don't let Wall Street put the damper on your wedding plans. What you need, you cutie pies you, is a beautiful, romantic wedding for not much money. Impossible you say? Come with me. I found just the place.

Columns on the Park is a deluxe Bellevue B&B with an Italian sensibility. Columns has put together an amazing wedding package for your small weddings ~ say around 20 people. Your hostess is an award winning interior designer so, yes, she's got the china, silver and the touch to make everything beautiful for your special day. And, best of all, her studio is in a Tuscan Villa. And, I'm not kidding.

Sure you could have your wedding in chambers, but, for $####, you get a wedding in a drop dead gorgeous garden, a keepsake garter, dozens of photos of your wedding, a true wedding cake, a complimentary bottle of Italian champagne, two keepsake champagne flutes, the perfect music, and a coffee, tea, punch reception with china plates and linen napkins.

Oh, the adventures that begin with "Yes." Did I mention the garden in the spring? Book now!

What happened, you might ask? Was it successful? Were you able to turn your skills into a "profit center?" Well, yes. . . and, no.

Having worked my way through college working retail, nothing much surprises me about working with the public. First, there were the calls wanting to know if they could have 50 people. What about 75? Sheesh, what part of 20ish wasn't clear? Those calls were followed by "was there a room for the bridal party to dress?" My first thought was "what part of 'in chambers' sounded like dressing rooms were involved?" Could they bring their hairdresser? Nail artist? Could they come the night before to set-up?

Yes, there are speakers in the garden. Yes, I have lovely wedding music. Sure, I will put your wedding mix tape on. No, I can't time it to sync up with the instant you finish your vows. 

Yes, I provide three cake flavours. Yellow, white and chocolate. No, they are not gluten-free. No, there is no "tasting."

Mostly, it went well. But, occasionally, when my life reads like a story problem, things happened. And, not good things.

Like the time . . .

I'd had back-to-back weddings and there was a lot of clean-up, tidy-up, prepare for the second wedding to do. I'd finished one cake, cleaned up the house, pressure washed the stone, blew off the driveway, dead headed the roses, emptied the trash, washed the napkins, ironed the napkins, started the dishwasher, started the second cake, set the timer and, just closed my eyes for a second . . . and sat straight up in bed!

Oh, my God! What time is it?

Oh no! It's 2:30AM. The cake's been in the oven since 9:30.

Shit! Shit! Shit!

It's burned all the way down. No chance of scraping off the charred edges. It's dead! Utterly, absolutely dead!

Shit! Shit! Shit!

Get in the car. Speed to 24 hour grocery store. What the hell? What are all those police cars speeding past me in the parking lot with lights and sirens blazing? What are all those police officers doing leaping out of their cars with their guns drawn?

Shit! Shit! Shit!

My Safeway is being robbed! Oh, brother! My life really is a complete story problem! Nightmare!

Shit! Shit! Shit!

Find another 24 hour store ~ right the hell now. Thank God, I live in the suburbs. All the grocery stores can't be being robbed in the middle of the night.

And, home again by 5:00AM. Cake cooling on the counter by 6:30AM. Sigh.

I really must buy a lottery ticket.

Hie Thee to The Salvage Yard

Going to the salvage yard is not for the faint of heart.

I, of course, find it thrilling and exhilarating. It feels like the cross between a scavenger hunt and a treasure hunt ~ of course, with less alcohol and no scuba gear. Generally though, it's not the place to wear your Manolo Blahniks.

In Seattle, my salvage yards of choice are Second Use and Earthwise. Over the years, in my trips to these salvage yards, I've bought tens of thousands of dollars of items for my clients.

Once, I made the mistake of taking a client to Earthwise and she spent the entire time recoiling from the dusty items as we went through what passed for aisles. Of course, we did find amazing things, but, even now, she shudders when we chat about our "field trip" which she characterized as a day spent rummaging through grimy merchandise covered with germs the size of golf balls! 

The thing about shopping at a salvage yard is to think in terms of "how can I use this differently?" Pay attention to the design elements of the item you are considering.

The people who work in salvage are really interesting. They have a tale to tell about everything they have. I love hearing the stories behind an item. For example, in the "school of thought" that says, "it's an ill wind that doesn't blow somebody good," we had an earthquake in Seattle and the wonderful glazed Terra Cotta tile cornice from West Seattle High School became a hazard and needed to be removed. When I arrived at Second Use, they had several palettes in the yard full of these fantastic tile cornices. The problem was ~ where to use them?

I didn't have anything on the boards when I saw these amazing tiles, but, I bought several of them anyway knowing if I didn't, when I needed them they wouldn't be available. That's the key to salvage ~ when you see it, buy it. It's not like buying at Lowe's or Home Depot where they can order more if you need it. When you are dealing with salvage ~ if you see it, buy it. When it's gone, it's gone.

I decided to use the West Seattle High School cornice pieces on a rather plain vanilla Mid-Century project. A project that could really benefit from a little zing. When it was done, it was the thing that set this plain vanilla house apart from its neighbor. It wasn't so fantastic as to be out of place, but, it was a remarkable answer to what could have been a very serious design problem ~ being boring.

In this project, I embraced a design convention that says ~ for strength and interest, repeat the element. Keeping that repetition in mind, the cornice tiles became the step into the spa, the hearth in the living room and the plinth around the yard lantern.

Using the West Seattle High School Terra Cotta tile cornice pieces provided a handsome solution to what could have been an otherwise ordinary house.

The moral of the story is ~ when you need that one-of-a-kind item to make your project soar, hie thee to the salvage yard.

We All Have Our Flaws

We all have our flaws. Mine is that I like what I like. I have favourites at restaurants; a favourite breakfast (my own smoked salmon, fresh sesame bagel, capers and sliced tomato with dark roasted French Press coffee with whole milk ~ every day!); favourite shoes (black ballet flats), favourite earrings (gold studs)  . . . you get the idea. Certainly, a case could be made for boring, but, I prefer "steadfast."

In the late 70's, I started wearing my favourite perfume "Secret of Venus" by Weil. A client of mine used to wear it and every time I met to talk about the project, I had to restrain myself from putting my nose on her neck. She used to carry "Secret of Venus" in her store. That's when it started ~ gateway drug! I've worn it and used it daily forever.

Then, quelle horreur, it was discontinued and I've been reduced to buying it online auctions when I need to resupply. Then, yee haw, Weil reintroduced it. Thank God! Uh oh  . . . you know how it feels when you see the big red band of letters on your favourite product "New, and Improved?" Death knells! You just know it is ruined. Yup, the new and improved "Secret of Venus" smells like unrepentant Raid. I've now been reduced to rationing my own supply.

Which brings me to this: one of the thing I've noticed during the last quarter plus century is that the "go to" present for women (much like ties for men) when you can't think of a thing to get for a special occasion is perfume. Nice quality, preferably French. Over the years, I've received some very nice bottles of eau de cologne and parfume ~ Chanel, Dior, Balenciaga, etc. Unfortunately, I never wore them ~ lovely though they are.

As I've been working hard to treat myself with little luxuries, I've started using those lovely perfumes every week. I spray my sheets with my gift fragrances. That coupled with the well-made bed ~ exquisite! Lovely! Generous! Totally atmospheric. Nothing like sliding into crisp fragrant sheets at the end of a busy day.

Now, I am able to put one of my major flaws to good use. Heaven.

Home from the Hospital

Since last September, the daughter of my friend Sally has been in Children's Hospital in Seattle. After nearly five years in remission from leukemia, she was ill again. God, it's been a terrifying seven months. She was not eligible for a bone marrow transplant. Her options were limited.

In January, it was decided she might be a good candidate for a cord blood transplant. It's been an emotional and physical roller coaster for sixty days. Two other children on her floor underwent cord blood transplant at the same time as MEB. One is dying and the other is suffering hideous side effects. MEB's course has been grueling, painful and scary, but she is making progress, slowly.

I got a call from her a couple of weeks ago asking me for a "design consult."

Now, the thing I learned when my husband died is that people want to help. And, they have no idea what would be helpful, so often, they just wait to be told what to do.  After Rick died, Sally called to see how I was doing. I was walking around slack-jawed and hollow eyed. How was I doing? Who knew? Certainly not me.

"You know," I said. "It's bad enough my husband is dead but my house is a filthy disgusting mess."

"I'll send Maria right over."

Last October, I received a similar call from Sally. "It's bad enough my daughter is in Children's but the tile is falling off the walls in my shower. Can you help?"

Nothing like giving someone something they can do. We finished her bathroom by Thanksgiving.

During our phone call, MEB said she wanted a new bedroom. She wanted it Tiffany box blue and yellow. Now, MEB has the smallest bedroom known to man. Less than 10' x 10'. And in that space she has a double bed and a closet that sticks out 21". You'd hit your head on the opposite wall if you bent over to sneeze. I mean small ~ coupled with a large list of what MEB wanted in her new room, I had my doubts.

But, undeterred and armed with my Tiffany box and a tote of paint samples, I went to Children's. Now, those of you that know, there is a thing called "dye lot". That means unless that fabric, that paint, that carpet, that wall covering comes from the same run, the colours will vary. So, my Tiffany box was slightly different than her Tiffany box blue.

Quelle surprise!

Of course, when you are sick and feel like hell, every potential setback feels like a catastrophe. After much handholding, "don't worry," "you can have exactly what you want," "let me take care of this for you," I started to work.

By the end of the week ~ success! A new bedroom for MEB and a pass from Children's so she can come home for a while. Nothing like sleeping in your own bed for a new lease on life.

The Power of Zen ~ the beautiful flourish

In life, it really is the little things that touch us most. The small kindness. The tender caress.

Last year for my birthday, my oldest son sent me a small bouquet of lilies. Beautiful. So, beautiful, in fact, I wanted to see them more than the usual FTD. I took them to my bathroom and put them on my counter in front of my vintage Venetian mirror.

Now, I have the world's smallest bathroom. One and half steps in and you're standing in front of the sink. Half a step to the right ~ toilet. Half a step further ~ shower. Weensy. But, nice.

I tucked my little tussy-mussy of lilies by the goose neck. Wonderful. Fragrant. Elegant. Luxurious.

His present reminded me how much I was missing that tenderness of spirit. I had forgotten to treat myself in a soul-satisfying way. Since then, twice a month, I put a small bouquet together for my bathroom ~ flowers from the store (in the winter months) coupled with variegated greens boxwood, Daphne, etc. from my yard.

This small $5.00 luxury feels generous and optimistic. It's easy to fall into the austerity mind-set so everything feels like a withholding grind; where every outlook looks grim. Fresh flowers are a friendly way to soften that grind. A small expenditure that feels luscious and hopeful.

Soul satisfying.
 

Baby Bunnies Redux

One of my dearest friends, Zenith McManigal, AIA, is not only a architectural boy genius but also the funniest man alive. So, I sent him the link to the tale of the bunnies in my back yard and got this:

In a message dated 3/14/2012 6:23:48 P.M. Pacific Daylight Time, Zen writes:

Cute!! Dear! You have such a Northwest Trek over there! All we have are raccoons & stupid coyotes that make us fear for the safety of our little Toy Fox Terrier Tula (Finley the border collie is big enough to fend for herself, as is Ramses).

Z

From Heidi ~ Sent: Wed, Mar 14, 2012 6:35 pm:

Hi Dear ~

Well, I did have a moments fright when I thought they were baby rats! Not that I would have done anything other than what I did but I did shudder. Northwest Trek, indeed. Last summer, I saw a couple (that's two, mind you) coyotes walking side-by-side bold as brass up the street chatting about life in the suburbs. Not a care in the world.

Did you like all the moss and black slime covering my pots, bench, and limestone in my photos? I like to think it's atmospheric and not a filthy disgusting mess. Which reminds me of the old Dennis the Menace cartoon. Dennis' parents on either side of the restaurant table with Dennis in the middle looking out of the panel. The caption ~ "I don't call it romantic. I call it dark." One person's atmospheric is another's filthy disgusting mess. Go figure.

H

From Zen ~ 3/14/2012 7:04:51 P.M. Pacific Daylight Time:

I prefer to think of it as having a rich yet bohemian-like earthiness........much like the patina on the bronze bells of the Cathedral of Notre Dame, or the rich sediment at the bottom of a bottle of Chateau Lafite Rothschild.....I'm thinking a '61........

Z

Oh! Baby Bunnies in the Garden.

It's raining in Seattle this morning.

When I was little, we lived on the Mojave Desert. Nearly every day, I'd go stand on the playground tarmac during recess, tilt my head looking up at the cloudless blue sky and say, "When I grow up, I'm going to live some place it rains every day."

I love Seattle.

I love the way it smells when the air is misty with rain. I love the way it feels when the rain falls in big fat drops. I love the way it sounds on the wooden ceiling of my mid-century house. I love my moss-coated garden art. I love the gentle climate that allows even a garden innocent like me to jette and pirouette around the beds.

Spring is a heady time when the 80# of King Alfred daffodils I planted last fall are optimistically peeking out from their winter slumber. When my husband died in 1996, I really needed to do hopeful things. I found that in planting bulbs. Now, going to the nursery is my hopeful fall ritual. Planting bulbs in the fall shows faith in the future. And, when they come up in spring starting with crocus, I feel profoundly happy. It's a simple thing really ~ but utterly lovely. It gives me a glimpse of what it must feel like to be Vita Sackville-West ~ with a lot less experience, fewer staff and smaller grounds. I live in paradise.

This morning when I took my dog, Ramses, out to potty, he was very interested in something close to the base of a large fir tree. He thrust his nose into the ivy and started to paw around. In all the excitement, he dislodged what looked like a bird's nest. On closer inspection ~ a nest of baby bunnies! They looked to be just hours old. Certainly no more than a couple of days ~ naked, eyes tight shut. They didn't appear to be injured though he messed up the nest a bit in his excitement. I found the three that came out when he lifted their upside down cashmere-lined dome, tucked them back in and dragged Ramses away.

I love knowing I have bunnies in my garden.

Sweet.

Spring must be just around the corner.

The Romance of Naming your Home

After my husband died, I decided to blow this pop stand and take my sons to Italy at Christmas. It was a two week slumber party and the first time I'd heard them laugh in months.

My sons are both 6'5" tall ~ talk about seven league boots! In Florence, they were striding along and pretty soon out-distanced me but I could hear them laughing from the next block. Heaven.

Because I adore architectural salvage, my walking was hampered by the visual wonder of Italy. I stopped often to admire a door knocker or a light fixture or the brace of an eave. Walking along the streets, block after block was the salve my soul needed.

We were in Florence for Christmas when we decided to take a midnight stroll and watched the full moon rise between Giotto's Bell Tower and the Duomo. Breathtaking. In one of the side streets of the Piazza del Duomo, there was a very small shop with a soaringly high ceiling and walls filled with wonderful signs. Enameled letters. Brass plaques. Individual house numbers in bronze and brass and steel. Utter desire!

The next day, we stopped into that mouthwatering store. As we entered, a thousand year old man walked out from the back room with the International Tribune under his arm. I started to ask him a question. He just turned on his heel and walked back into his office. We stood there a little flat footed and finally left.

The next year, my oldest son was studying in Florence. After nine months of Italian lessons and just before my birthday, he returned to the shop and ordered me a sign for my 50th birthday. And, in an understanding of the importance of international peace, he said that the owner reminded him of Grampa ~ a bit of a curmudgeon, he doesn't like speaking English to "tourists" but was very charming when you get to know him.

And, there it is ~ a little grace note on the side of my home. And, a touching present from my son. Heaven!

The Grace Note ~ Using Architectural Salvage

In music, a Grace Note is a small embellishment. It adds dissonance to a harmony. In interiors, a Grace Note adds depth of detail and visual interest. It adds spice.

Vintage feature tile tucked
into a small corner. Spice!

Over the last 20 years, the focus of my business has been Historic Restoration. The key to the success of a project is almost always dependent on the sensitive use of architectural salvage. When you purchase pieces from a salvage yard, you are not only keeping construction materials out of landfills but you are also bringing history to life. Many articles would cost the earth if you were able to purchase them today.

A 250 year old Danish door front,
nickel vintage torches,
a canvas awning
make for an inviting entry.

For the client who appreciates the past, working with architectural salvage is the Grace Note that adds spice!

When even the most expensive interiors feel like you've seen it all before, including vintage architectural elements in the mix lifts it into the realm of extraordinary. That "one of a kind" aspect really appeals to me. While less may be more, interiors that reflect the style, ideas and concerns of the client ultimately turn into space of distinction and character.

Small marble angel found
broken now part of an
extraordinary door bell.

Vintage iron window grate
now the face of a
lovely Juliete balcony

Who doesn't need a very cool exit sign?