Making A List... Of Books!

Making A List.... Of Books!

While I’d like to think that the delectable Nigella

Lawson and I have more in common than an all too frequent tendency to lick cake batter off our fingers when we bake, I’m not certain that is true. I don’t know if she owns a dog, or if she knits. I certainly am ignorant of her politics. However, when I saw the photograph of her at her desk, above, I had to giggle. Yes, we do share something else. We are unabashed collectors of books. Books everywhere. Higgedly pigglety on the shelves, teetering stacks in the corners. Several years ago, in an effort to prevent ourselves from disappearing beneath our books, The Songwriter and I built a small library out of what used to be my dressing room. (I’d rather read than primp anyway.) Strangely enough, that library is rapidly filling up and those all too familiar swaying stacks, albeit small ones, have begun to crop up beside various overstuffed chairs in several rooms of the house. But I can’t worry about that now, because, just as Nigella seems to be doing, I’ve been busy compiling my Christmas book list for 2010! Without a doubt, books are my favourite presents to give.

So please enjoy this list and just click on the book's photograph to be whisked away to see more. And do add to the list when you comment!

Happy reading!

Happy Giving!

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For the Cooks and The Eaters

I sleepily sat down to breakfast the other morning and was presented with the fluffiest, tastiest cheese omelet imaginable. The Songwriter, grinning with pride, was the creator of this treat and I looked at him curiously. “Jamie Oliver! ", he said. “I was craving an omelet, so I found a video of Jamie showing me exactly how to do it!”

All hail Jamie!

We are fans of his here, and his newest book is a wonderful take on American food.

And anytime of the year, but especially at Christmas, I simply love to bake.

Bread, cakes, pies, candy... you name it.

This new book by baker extraordinaire Sarabeth Levine is chock full of delicious, creative recipes that any baker would adore.

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For The Curious

There is a fine line between curiousity and nosiness, so fine in fact that, sadly, some simply disregard its existence. I’m not really a nosy person, unless you count my barely controlled desire to know what other people are reading. In an airport, on a train, at the beach - if someone has their nose in a book, I can barely refrain from asking them about it. Fortunately for me, readers are quite like gardeners in their generous tendency to share information.

But here is a great treat for someone like me. This new book by writer Pat Conroy is a fascinating look at the most important books in his life.

He tells us what they were, and why they changed his life.

I cannot resist this one.

And then, for the genuinely curious, here is a treat par excellence.

The Encyclopedia of the Exquisite is just what its title claims to be.

A compendium of the whimsical, a collection of the luxurious, a syllabus of all the wonderful bibelots and trifles that make life so much fun.

Carousels and champagne, confetti and crickets... and those are just from the C’s!

Every guest room should have this book!

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Four For The Cozy Readers

For all that can rightfully be said to recommend beach reading, is there anything really better than winter reading?

Especially when the holiday rush is past and it’s just you, by yourself, curled up in front of a roaring fire, with a mug of mulled wine and a dog, or two, at your feet?

Here are four great suggestions for just that cozy kind of reading.

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Two For Those Who, Like Myself, Love to Walk Furry Dogs Under Tall Trees

Just incredible photography of man's, and woman's, very best friends.

It captures the soul of a tree right on its glossy pages.

Truly a remarkable book.

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For Those Who Love France, Both Then and Now

I remember the first time I read Ernest Hemingway’s A Moveable Feast.

So different in style and tone from his other writings, it is a love letter to youth, writing and Paris.

Guaranteed to make you want to grab a bouquet of well-sharpened pencils and a weathered notebook, slap a beret on your head and make haste to a cafe in Paris where you’ll sit, sipping espresso after espresso, until you finish your novel.

You crave macaroons from Laduree.

You watch Sabrina, the Audrey version, over and over just to see those shots of the Eiffel Tower outside her atelier window.

You read Maigret novels and, even when it’s badly sung, La Vie en Rose can make you cry.

You are a Francophile and proud of it.

This wonderful new book by Vicki Archer is for you, and probably for all your friends.

A follow-up to her lovely, My French Life, her new book bears the same name as her delightful blog - French Essence.

A essential gift, especially for yourself!

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Two For Me, and Maybe You Too

It’s probably always been much more fun to read about the fascinating Mitford sisters than to have been one.

Such drama, such wit, almost too much for one family.

This new autobiography by the youngest of the sisters, Deborah, the Duchess of Devonshire, promises to be a window on an incredible life.

And of course, anything about Scotland catches my attention, as there’s rarely a day that passes that I don’t long to be there at least once.

Highland Living centers around life at Cawdor Castle, yes that’s Macbeth’s family home to you and me, as it takes us inside the beauty of the Scottish Highlands.

Really, to me, the most beautiful place on the face of the Earth, and the land that owns my heart.

Sigh.

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For The Children

This beautiful book pays tribute to thirteen imaginative Americans whose ideals have greatly influenced this country for the good. It contains lush and gorgeous illustrations and, with all the profits from book sales being donated to a scholarship fund for the children of fallen and disabled US service personnel, Of Thee I Sing, is a no brainer.

Perfect for any child on your Christmas list.

And yes, I realize this has been out for ages, but that’s the great thing about kids - there are brand new ones coming along all the time that haven’t a clue of what’s gone before.

They’ve yet to see The Wizard of Oz, yet to visit Hogwarts or Narnia, yet to follow Alice down that rabbit hole in the garden.

And they don’t yet know about this sweet comforting snowman in the green scarf who can take take them flying in the air of a cold, cold night.

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For the Thinkers and the Dreamers

Some people are born with a gift of weaving ordinary words into intricate tapestries that keep us warm when the nights are cold.

Dylan Thomas was such a weaver and I never tire of his beautiful words.

I read this each Christmas season and am once again transported to a seaside town in Wales, many years ago, at Christmastime.

Always and eternally a perfect gift.

And finally, a jewel of a book for anyone on your list.

Wise and wonderful, written by a man who possessed these qualities in abundance.

Here’s a few words from John O’Donohue’s Anam Cara: A Book of Celtic Wisdom.

They seem to describe quite perfectly what I always wish to accomplish through this little blog of mine.

"If you send out goodness from yourself,

or if you share that which is happy or good within you,

it will all come back to you multiplied ten thousand times.

In the kingdom of love there is no competition; there is no possessiveness or control.

The more love you give away, the more love you will have."

Happy Book Shopping!

Skipping The Front Page

Skipping The Front Page

I just need a week or so. Perhaps even a few days will do. Just a clutch of sweet hours without any front page news. Time to clear my cluttered head. Time to delight in the simple folderol and frippery of the holidays. Just some time to sit in front of the fire and follow the shadows of the Christmas tree lights as they dance along the ceiling. A moment to lavishly wrap a present, an afternoon to forage for woodland greenery on a cold walk with Edward underneath the tall trees. Just an hour or so to think about chocolate, to read about Scrooge, or to hum a noel.

An old friend wrote me an email the other night. He was apoplectic over the financial disaster in Ireland. I could tell this from his words as well as from the late hour in which the letter was sent. He was wide awake and fretting. I understand that feeling well. This summer’s tragedy in the Gulf of Mexico gave me more than a few nights like that, and frankly, it still does. There is so much today that is worthy of worry, from Polar Bears to currency, one would have to live underground not to notice.

I try to do what I can, to be responsible for my little corner of the Earth in every way possible but sometimes, just sometimes, I have to unplug from the news of the world. And I do. I take time out for myself, for just a few days, to only watch the oldest movies on television, preferably ones shot in black and white.

To only read words that nourish my soul and embroider my imagination.

To only listen to Christmas music.

To skip past the front page of the Times in the morning and head straight to the Arts section with a smile on my face.

I am feeling this way at the moment.

Mind you, I won’t stay in this blissfully vacant spot for too long, but sometimes I find it essential for beating back those incapacitating feelings of despair. Otherwise I begin to feel as if I have to hold up the sky and, knowing my limitations, I crumble.

There is more than enough reason to hope, I know, and when I emerge from my contented exile I seem to see that much more clearly. Why, just last week, The Songwriter and I entertained a young artist at our dinner table. A beautiful girl, with an enchanting voice, she is poised for a stellar career. I was heartened beyond measure to hear her speak of wanting to use her life to help bring about change in a positive way. She spoke of so many problems worthy of her attention, so much need in the world. We talked of the importance of focusing on one or two issues that speak to her heart, lest the magnitude of concern overwhelm her. She had recently performed at a large benefit to help those who work to stop the dreadful problem of human trafficking, and she thought perhaps that was an issue on which she would devote her considerable energy. So young, such talent, such passion. Reason for us all to hope and be glad.

Then, on the far other end of the spectrum of years, I was leaving the neighbourhood yesterday and passed by the house of an elderly friend. She’s rather circumspect about her age, but she has to be well over ninety, so I was astonished to see that she had a crew of men in her front garden, planting an oak tree sapling.

I couldn’t find words to wrap up my feelings about this.

Think about that.

At her age.

A baby oak tree.

God Rest Us All Merry,

Let Nothing We Dismay.

I just might read the front page tomorrow.

For Those Who Can't Sleep

For Those Who Can’t Sleep

He enters the world through the forest at midnight.

The fir trees hold their emerald dresses aside to let him pass while the snowy owl watches from a hiding place atop the slowly swaying branches.

A silent wind ruffles his fur.

He leaves behind paw prints of diamonds and silver and the white light of his passing passes over the face of the fox and the hare like a blessing.

He nods his fair head and, far beyond view, the stars start to tumble, changing their colours to red, green and gold as they land on the spruce trees and light up the dark.

Somewhere snowflakes dance.

Somewhere hope awakens.

He is the most magical of all the sweet twelve, the one who brings joy and lightness of heart.

He paints the holly berries crimson. He hangs a wreath upon the wooden door.

His icy breath is scented with chestnuts and pine and he’s hungry for gingerbread, cocoa and fudge.

His is the laughter we hear in the sleigh bells, his is the song that we sing in the choir.

He stands guard over our memories, and makes our dreams manifest no matter our age.

The spirit of Christmas forever journeys alongside him, this great champion of fellowship, peace and goodwill.

There might still be time to be there to greet him,

for those who can’t sleep or who wish hard enough.

So, grab your red coat and your warmest green mittens

and I’ll meet you in the most ancient forest as the clock strikes twelve.

He is December.

He arrives tonight.

Painting above by Theodor Severin Kettelsen

Waving

Waving

After lifetimes spent in preparation, they are now departing.

One by one we are watching them go, embarking on exotic journeys of which we can only wonder.

Dressed up in our finery, we gather together to see another one off, once again to wave our goodbyes as we watch one more ship sail into the west and out of our sight.

They were the illustrious class ahead of us all, those of once unimaginable age and unreachable experience.

We studied them carefully, recording their stories at family reunions, seeking their counsel whenever we could.

They were true north - our road maps, our templates.

Don’t they see we aren’t yet ready to move up ahead, to now be the ones the younger ones watch, to now be the ones from whom the answers are required.

We stand on the shoreline and call to them, “Wait!” - but they merely smile nonchalantly and wave us farewell.

We fight our childish urge to wheedle and whine, and stamp our feet - why are they leaving us all so soon?

Too soon, too soon.

But here we sit, the once too-young ones - with our hands folded, our heads bowed - at another valediction, another bon voyage.

Already lonesome for their presence, we are beginning to feel the weight of the mantle we now inherit.

Funny, it seems a bit lighter than I would have imagined.

Departures

by Linda Pastan

They seemed to all take off

at once; Aunt Grace

whose kidneys closed shop,

Cousin Rose who fed sugar

to diabetes;

my grandmother’s friend

who postponed going so long

we thought she’d stay.

It was like the summer years ago

when they all set out on trains

and ships, wearing hats with veils

and the proper gloves,

because everybody was going

someplace that year,

and they didn’t want

to be left behind.

Thanksgiving Day

Thanksgiving Day

As wonderful as my country is, there are many aspects of life here in America that I could never, in good conscience, recommend to my friends around the globe. Donald Trump, for instance. He can be a bit of a trial. We are the country of both the Hummer and the Double Down Burger, neither invention worth crowing about, in my opinion. We are bothered with yellow jackets, rattlesnakes, and Sarah Palin. They are ours, I suppose, and we just have to endure them. But there is something that takes place in America that I can most sincerely endorse to all. Thanksgiving Day. One day out of the year that we as a nation set aside just for being grateful. Now it could be argued that the meaning of this day is often obscured by football games and pie. And it's certainly true that part of the national celebration includes a rather sensational parade in which skyscraper size balloons shaped like Donald Duck and Underdog bob along in the air above New York City. Fun, to be sure, but not exactly conducive to quiet moments of reflection. But for each of us, there usually comes a time during this particular day when we pause to reflect on all of the love and wonder that shines in our lives, both individually and collectively, and it is that thankful moment that lifts the fourth Thursday in November up off the calendar and holds it aloft as a beacon to gratitude, a day of Thanksgiving. It is a lovely way to begin the holiday season, I can tell you.

I have many things to be grateful for, many reasons to smile, as I'm sure you do as well.

Here's a random list of ten.

How about yours?

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1. Words

I still remember the first time I read the world, salubrious. It was in the delightful book, My Family and Other Animals, by Gerald Durrell. "Saloooobreeeeous". It positively tickled my tongue. I loved saying it and did so at every opportunity, for weeks. It remains one of my favourite words, as much for its definition as for the delicious taste it leaves in my mouth when I utter it. The English language is a divine treasure trove, a veritable diamond mine that sparkles with jewels which, when chosen carefully, can transform the mundane into the incredible, lift high the lowest spirit, or chop the foolish right down to size. With such a magical lexicon at our disposal, it pains me to hear it abused by words such as, "like" or "whatever". Even worse, it is so often simply neglected. So many imaginative, colourful words are ignored these days, it's a pity. I realize I am not alone in my concern for our current linguistic state, for there is now a fabulously entertaining website called Save The Words where one may "adopt" an endangered word, promising to use it whenever and wherever one can. The site is fun to browse through and you can choose your word, or just let them provide one for you at random. My adopted word is "prandicle" and no doubt it will be beneficial to consider its meaning quite seriously over the Holiday season so as not to over indulge.

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2. My Vegetable Garden

When I signed up for my community garden plot, I don't think I truly believed I'd ever by eating my own fresh vegetables. I enjoyed the planting and watering, and often go over to the garden just to sit on one of the benches and feel the wind and sun on my face. It's such a peaceful place. I marveled at the beauty of the growing things in my little plot, much the same as I appreciate the flowers in my home garden. But lo and behold! I can actually eat this stuff! Wow! We've been eating our own fresh lettuces for several weeks now, and my very own homegrown broccoli will be on my Thanksgiving table this year! Such a treat!

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3. Edward

This third entry is an expected one, no doubt. But really, Edward is such a joy every single day, how could I possibly leave him out? On an afternoon just last week, I was over tending to the garden whilst The Songwriter took Edward and the delightful Apple for a walk around the adjoining parkland. When my chores were done, I locked the garden gate and set off to find the wandering three. Looking across a wide field, my hand shielding my eyes from the sun, I spied them. They spied me. Kneeling down where I was, I watched as The Songwriter unsnapped Edward's lead. A Polar Bear racing over the ice, a Snow Owl shooting through the night sky - the big white dog flew towards me like an arrow, grinning all the while he came. To be loved by a dog is a wonderful thing.

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4. Trees

There was a tall Sweetgum tree that stood on the perimeter of a forest behind my childhood house, with one fat limb that hovered just close enough to the ground for an easy leg up. Once on that limb, often with a book in one hand - no easy feat, I can tell you - I could then shimmy up into the middle of that tree with relative grace. There, hidden behind a curtain of green, I would spend hours in my own private emerald castle, with my dog sleeping contentedly far down on the ground. In my life long romance with trees, that Sweetgum was perhaps my first love and indeed, I remember certain trees in my life in much the same way as others may recall past loves. There was the Sugar Maple I used to pass every day on my way to school. I would wait for its leaves to change each autumn - that vibrant blast of colour no artist could paint. I know that tree influenced the planting of the Sugar Maples in my own garden today. There was the Monkey Puzzle tree that greeted me at the end of a long winding driveway in Scotland. I still see that one in my dreams. There is the gargantuan Magnolia in my own front garden. Planted years ago, far too close to the house, it greenly dances in front of each window, shielding us from the harsh afternoon glare and providing the perfect sleeping place for the mourning doves that flock to it each evening.

Each one an individual, each one glorious, I simply adore trees.

And the photograph above is off my own back garden, underneath some very old friends.

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5. Weddings

Okay, I'll admit to having a lump in my throat when I saw Diana's sapphire ring resting on the hand of the lovely Kate Middleton last week.

Has it really been thirty years since that other fabled, fated wedding?

I wish these two every happiness in the world. Those smiles on their faces are charming and I'm thankful all over again for the light of new love.

I can't help it - weddings get me every time.

I fervently pray the jackals will leave these two alone.

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6. Harry Potter

I swore I wouldn't read them, relying on my usual dislike of anything so universally popular. And it's true, I came to the Harry Potter books rather late in the game. Three had already been published and still I refused to open one. Finally, at the urging of a friend, I promised to read the first chapter of the first book. Just to see. And, just like magic, I found I couldn't hold the seat on my very high horse and tumbled down, down, down into the most wondrous world I'd encountered since childhood. Like millions of grade schoolers, I now waited impatiently for the release of each book. My tradition never varied. As soon as the UPS man placed the book on my front steps (yes, I was one of those who ordered online so as to get my copy on the morning it was published) I would snatch it up greedily, throw it into a straw bag, and head for the beach with my hair in a ponytail. There I would stay, with just the occasional break for sustenance, until I'd finished the entire tale. The last pages of The Deathly Hallows was read in the midst of a thunderstorm - wind and rain blowing all around, lightning out over the sea. Magic? Of course.

And yes, I was there last week on opening day of the next to last film.

Magic? Of course.

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7. The Songwriter

He's funny and kind, even when he's not thinking about it.

He sings to Apple when she's being brushed because it stops her from wiggling.

He makes me pancakes on Saturdays and wakes me up with coffee brewing each and every morning.

He rubs my feet without my asking which is a luxury beyond any measure.

He kills the bugs that make me squeal and refills the bird feeder outside my office window even when it's bone chilling cold.

He sees the humour in everything and his blue eyes get little and round when he's angry.

Whenever we arrange to meet up somewhere, in a shop or cafe, my heart still skips a beat when I see him approach and I am unutterably grateful for that.

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8. Individuality

Knowing who you are at an early age is a valuable and irresistible thing.

I am always drawn to such people, they make life a complete joy.

The ones who refuse to follow trends, who are honest and forthright, who dance to a tune only they can hear.

This little chap seems to already have a handle on who he is.

Why do I think he will have a most interesting life?

photo via The Satorialist

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9. Jane Goodall

Everyone knows Dr. Jane Goodall is passionate about chimpanzees. Her life's work has been devoted to their study and welfare. There is a wonderfully prophetic photograph of her as a baby, clutching a toy chimpanzee close, a hint of what was to come in her life. But her love of animals and the natural world is far reaching. Consider this little known photograph above. That is a young Jane with a favourite dog named Rusty. Of Rusty, she says... "He was my childhood companion. We did everything together. He taught me about animal personality, mind and emotions..... I could never have left for Africa had Rusty still been alive. I could not have lived with such a sense of betrayal".

There are some people loose on the world who make it a much better place just by their presence. Jane Goodall is such a person to me. Her devotion to animals has been evident all of her life. Her important work with the chimpanzees of Gombe has spawned many books, all of which I can recommend. But the thing I most admire about Dr. Goodall is this - through all she has seen, the ignorance and cruelty of mankind included, she still remains hopeful. Do read her wonderful book, Reason For Hope, and you shall see why she is one of my heroes. I'm thankful we share the same planet.

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10. A Mirror

I could continue this list for hours, I suppose. But I'll conclude here with a mirror that I'm holding up to you. Take a look inside! I am so thankful for each of my wonderful readers. Your comments and emails mean very much to me as I continue to chronicle my quirky little journey on this little blue globe swinging out in the darkness. I try to always visit those who comment, but I know I often fall short of that goal, especially now at this busybusy time of year. But please know, each of you, how much I treasure your thoughts and comments. I am consistently amazed by the creativity and caring, the wit and the kindness, you all share with me every single day.

As a holiday thank you for all my readers, I am sharing an exclusive coupon code for my Etsy Shoppe. The coupon is good NOW through the upcoming shopping weekend, ending at midnight on Monday and anything in my shoppe is 20% off when you check out with the code - 77edward26cadogan

You can visit the shoppe HERE.

Thank you all,

and Happy Thanksgiving