Delights of the Season.... And A Very Special Giveaway!

Delights of the Season, and A Very Special Giveaway!

I’m as restless as willow in a windstorm.

I’m as jumpy as a puppet on a string.

I’d say that I had Spring fever,

but I know it isn’t Spring.

Or is it?

As I sit beside my open window, I keep glancing over at the calendar. Perhaps I missed a month? For strange as it seems after such a cold winter, spring seems to have already arrived. And despite myself, just like the purple finches now singing happy songs high up in the bare maples, I am ensnared by its magic. How can I possibly resist the lure of this season that has captivated painters and poets down through the ages? Truth is, I can’t, so I’ve decided to just give in... and revel in Springtime, early though it may be.

So here’s a special list - a baker's dozen delights for this wonderful time of year.

And there’s an extra special giveaway at the end!

Oh and the magical painting above can be found HERE.

Enjoy!

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1. Flowers

Without a doubt, I would spend my last few dollars on fresh flowers.

The cottage just doesn’t seem dressed without vases full of them in every room.

That’s something I adore about London and I was reminded of afresh during my recent trip there. Flowers are available everywhere. The photo above was taken outside the doors of Liberty.

One of the most delightful things about this time of year is the anticipation of all flowers that will soon be waking up in my gardens. So many hydrangeas! And they make the most divine arrangements all the way to autumn.

For as much as I love the flower market, there’s nothing like growing your own.

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2. An Oscar for the King

Sometimes the good guys do win!

Congratulations to Colin Firth.

Brilliant performance in a beautiful movie.

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3. Jane Eyre

One never forgets one’s first literary love. For me, Charlotte Bronte’s classic was the first book that raised the curtain on the remarkable power of words. Though still a child, I dove heartfirst into that book, barely coming up for air till it was finished. I’ve collected beautiful copies of it ever since. And of course, I’m intrigued with each new production that comes along, although I will confess to being rather hard to please. I found Ciaran Hinds to be more than adequate as the enigmatic Mr. Rochester, but William Hurt just made me cringe. (And wasn’t that the same version that had Elle MacPherson playing Blanche Ingram? Scheesh.)

Well, a brand new film adaptation opens this month and, of course, I must go see it. I’m already a fan of Mia Wasikowska who plays our heroine. I think she has a lovely screen presence and some serious acting chops to boot. Judi Dench is playing Mrs. Fairfax, so that bodes well for this production. As for Mr. Rochester, we’ll just have to wait and see.

See the trailer HERE.

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4. Hats

I always come home from London with a longing to wear extravagant hats.

Such a pity they’ve gone out of fashion here in the States.

Truth be told though, I’ve never thought I look especially good in hats.

My hair seems too long - too.... much.

But along comes the gorgeous Kate Middleton.

She has long hair and she looks perfectly divine in hats.

Even in a fascinator, like the one shown above.

Maybe I should rethink this.

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5. The Hipstamatic Application

I’m trying to become better acquainted with my iPhone.

He’s been riding around in my handbag for awhile now, and I know the little chap is enthusiastic about showing me all he can do, but I’ve been a bit slow to take advantage of his many offerings.

Lately, however, I have begun to investigate his compendium of many wonders, especially in the camera department, and I have discovered the Hipstamatic app.

A real treat, it transforms any image one snaps into something that looks antique.

I spent yesterday at the barn with my good friend Natalie and her handsome horse, Walter, the perfect place to practice the Hipstamatic. Although Walter spent the entire afternoon in an ultimately futile attempt to steal the locket from around my neck, he did make the most wonderful model, don’t you think?

Read about it HERE.

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6. Albert Hadley Closes His Doors... With A Sale

Four short years ago, I was so busy in my interior design business that I could hardly keep up with anything else. Then one day, it stopped, cold. The downturn in the economy hit designers hard, particularly those who, like myself, had businesses that catered to the sort of clients who craved the bespoke and unique over the mass-produced and trendy. I wasn’t alone, it happened to a lot of us. And now I find that it’s also happened to the best of us, for the great Albert Hadley has retired after, as the NY Times recently put it, his business “slowed to a trickle”.

For decades, Mr. Hadley, along with the renown Sister Parish, sat atop the pinnacle of interior design. Their firm, Parish-Hadley, “did” every important dwelling from the Astors and the Rockefellers to the White House. Odd to think that, in this day of DIY, his services are no longer requested.

But the good news, I suppose, is this: Mr. Hadley is having a warehouse sale. Two auctions - one at Sotheby’s in Manhattan on March 30th, the other on April 1st at Stair Galleries in Hudson, NY - will feature the contents of both his office and his warehouse, as well as some items from his own home. These sales are sure to be treasure troves of wonderful items and a rare opportunity to glimpse design’s golden age.

Make your home as comfortable and attractive as possible and then get on with living.

There's more to life than decorating.

Albert Hadley

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7. Dandelion Chairs

Flowers, flowers, everywhere!

Even in furniture.

Isn’t this dandelion chair amazing?

And can't you just visualize it around a Springtime lunch table?

See more HERE

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8. The Wearable Art of Mary Katrantzou

I can be utterly carried away by beautiful textiles.When I decorate a room, the jumping off point is almost always a piece of exquisite fabric. It is fascinating to observe the marriage of interior design and fashion and, often, when I find myself almost magnetically drawn to a garment, it is because I find the fabric irresistible. Of course, I then have to ask myself if I want to wear this dress, or cover a chair in it. An important question, for it does take a little something extra to carry off an extravagant print with aplomb. However, if given the chance, I would wear any of Mary Katrantzou’s designs anytime of day, for I find them to be the consummate blend of art and fashion as they combine both interior and exterior design so beautifully.

Born in Greece, Ms. Katrantzou studied at the Rhode Island School of Design and is now a London based designer whose latest show was the talk of fashion week there.

Just look at these clothes! One can easily see that her inspiration was, “Diana Vreeland and coromandel screens”.

Genius.

See more HERE.

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9. The Perfect Tea Cup

No one makes tea like the British.

I don’t know why that is so, but it is, as my recent time in London once again confirmed.

Nonetheless, I love to make tea.

And I love all the acomapnnied actourements.

The perfect tea pot.

The perfect cup.

This is, to me, a wonderful choice for Spring.

I’m drinking Darjeeling at the moment.

Find the cup HERE, and do join me.

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10. Whimsical China

And I adore this new china!

What a fabulous Springtime table one could set with this!

Find it HERE.

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11. Shoes

There comes a day in March when, no matter how chilly it may still be, boots are simply no longer an option.

Even a favourite pair now seems heavy and dull.

These divine shoes are for that day.

Find them HERE.

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12. The Distant Hours

If Alfred Hitchcock still walked the planet, he would have snatched up Kate Morton's new novel, The Distant Hours, before the ink was dry on the page. This book would have made the most divine Hitchcockian film.

In black and white, of course.

All the boxes are ticked here.....

A crumbling old castle with a man of questionable sanity holed up in the tower.

Three elderly sisters with secrets galore.

Thunderstorms, lots of thunderstorms.

Yes, this is well-traveled territory and there are perhaps one, or two, too many coincidences.

But it's a wonderful book to curl up with during one of those Springtime thunderstorms.

Find it HERE.

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13. Fair Trade

One thing about travel, when one can eat a late breakfast in one country and cross an ocean to dinner in another, it becomes rather difficult to remain comfortably insulated from what transpires in other parts of the globe, no matter how far flung those places may seem to be. Our world is small now, and becoming even smaller with each new Facebook friend or Tweet. Whether we are talking about climate change or revolution, what touches one country will most certainly touch our own. Fortunately, this means than even the smallest changes for good have some effect. When we turn down our thermostats or recycle our plastic and glass, when we make informed decisions about the cars that we drive, or pay attention to where and how our food is grown, we need to remember that these small changes can make important differences for the betterment of all.

I have recently become more aware and knowledgeable about the concept of fair trade. Fair Trade organizations allow artisans around the world to receive a fair price for their work by providing a direct link between those artisans and the consumer. They enable these artisans to create sustainable businesses, thereby improving the well-being of entire communities. Many fair trade items are certified organic as well and even if they’re not, they tend to produce items in much more environmentally friendly ways by minimizing pesticides and pollutants.

One of the best resources for Fair Trade items is Novica, a subsidary of National Geographic. You can find all sorts of fabulous items at Novica, just a sample of which can be seen in the photographs here, and each item comes with a card that provides information about the artist who created it.

And now, especially for my first Springtime list of 2011, Novica is offering my readers a most generous giveaway gift -

A $100 gift certificate!

All you have to do is visit their site HERE and come back to tell me what you’d choose.

And if you are, or become, a follower of this blog, you’ll be entered twice!

I’ll draw the lucky winner at midnight on Thursday, St. Patrick’s Day.

Edward and I wish you all the luck of the Irish

and we send our best wishes for a Happy, Early, Spring.

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To learn more about Novica here's some extra links...

For Fair Trade corporate gifts go HERE.

For Eco-friendly gifts go HERE

and for information on their micro-finance program, go HERE

I Wore My Father's Watch

I Wore My Father’s Watch

I wore my father’s watch to London. A bit too big for my wrist, I wear it since his death three years ago, carrying a little bit of who he was along with me through the poetry and prose of my days. For years it rested on the wrist of a man most at home midst the trees of his own back garden, a man for whom the city of London was as far away as the moon. Daddy always told me, usually after swallowing hard, that I could do anything I put my mind to. And I believed him. So as I embarked on a solo trip to my favourite city, I wore his watch and took him with me. Grabbing taxis, boarding trains, sitting in cafes by the window, having tea... watching, noticing, soaking up inspiration like a tulip in the rain.

I wore his watch up Regent Street where, standing in the doorway of Hamley’s, that mammoth cathedral of toys, there was a man dressed in 16th century garb, blowing bubbles. Shiny and ephemeral, they floated for a moment in the early afternoon sun before meeting their inevitable demise in the chubby grasp of a passing toddler’s hand. But as I strolled by, one followed me. Unnoticed by the jostling crowds on the pavement, it sailed on the current of the misty air, floating happily just above my right shoulder, as if to whisper a secret to me alone. I think I caught it’s message just before it veered through the doorway of Jaeger..... “pay attention, pay attention”.

I was wearing his watch as I stopped to speak to an elderly man sitting on a bench outside the magnificent art-lined halls of The Wallace Collection. At his feet sat a rather anxious terrier - small, shivering. Asking if perhaps I could pet her he tells me he is only dog-sitting for a friend and warns me that “the little gal tends to be snappish”. Undeterred, I bend to let her sniff my hand. She waddles over immediately and settles at my feet. As I rub her ears, the old gentlemen smiles and declares that I “have the knack”. We talk about dogs and art. He tells me he is writing a book of his experiences in WWII. “For my children and grand-children”, he shyly says. I tell him it will be a treasure to them all. Daddy’s watch glistens in the sun as I wave goodbye.

I wore his watch through the cold and shadowed rooms of Hampton Court, a place where the veil between what is and what was is threadbare. I sat in the silence of The Chapel Royal, listening for echoes, strange snippets of song gathering in the corners, lingering beneath the blue. Alone in the gardens, I stood underneath the ancient trees and bent down to pick up one small black stone, worn shiny and smooth by time. If I held it to my ear, could the voices still be heard - a bit of infinity trapped in the stone? I place it in the pocket of my coat, just in case.

Through the Food Halls of Harrods to the Tudor grandeur of Liberty.

Hours spent in the stacks at John Sandoe Books and up and down the stairs at Hatchard’s.

A stroll down Birdcage Walk in St. James Park just as a feeble February sun dipped down below the Buckingham towers.

I wore it as I quietly stood in front of the famous Dutch sunflowers.

As I marveled at the colours of the drowning Ophelia.

As I watched the waters of the Thames lap gently against the Embankment.

From the opulence of Belgrave Square to the cobblestones of Spittalfields, I wore my father’s watch.

I paid close attention.

And we had a ball.

Photo above: Birdcage Walk, St. James Park, London

Pen Pals

Pen Pals

The Royal Standard whips round in the wind above Buckingham Palace, signaling the presence of Her Majesty. Fighting back the childish urge to press my nose against the damp glass of the black taxi in which I am riding, I watch, unblinking, as we speed past all the old familiar landmarks, standing comfortably solid in the waxen light of an early morning sun. Out the right side window I glimpse white swans gliding lazily along the pond in St. James Park. To my left, four black lions nod a regal welcome from their perches in Trafalgar Square, while down the street to my right, Big Ben gives me a wink. Suddenly the taxi wheels round in front of my destination, The Wolseley, where I am scheduled to meet a new friend for breakfast. I step out onto the grey pavement, push open the doors and enter into the grand art deco interior. If it were not for the contemporary air of the diners inside, I could easily be Miss Lemon herself, meeting Hercule Poirot for tea. As it happens, I am to meet someone I have never even seen before.

Just as Julia Child and Avis DeVoto forged a fast friendship through letters - it was ten years before they actually met face to face - I feel I know Jeanne the moment we say hello, even though our friendship has been heretofore confined exclusively to the written word. For, unlikely as it may seem, we have become friends through this newfangled form of communication, blogging. A truly lovely lady with genuine charm, Jeanne has five blogs, a fact I find utterly exhausting even to consider, particularly since each one of them is so different from the other and each is so artfully done. We spend the next couple of hours discussing everything from books to travel, from skin care to family, laughing and finishing each other’s sentences as good friends are wont to do. After leaving The Wolseley, we wander through Hatchard's, the oldest bookshop in London and five floors of total literary enchantment, where Jeanne buys a cookbook and I, a book of ghost stories. As we say our goodbyes, I watch her leave in her gorgeous grey coat and lavender scarf, grateful for the introduction that this blog has allowed.

I would consider this wonderful meeting an anomaly were it not for my experience a couple of days later. When I let it be known that I was coming to London, I received a sweet letter from Jayne, the talented blogger from A Novice Novelist, inviting me to tea. I adore Jayne’s writing, and accepted immediately. (How could I not look forward to tea with someone who states in their blog profile that they had wanted to be a cat when they grew up?) We arranged to meet at a place we were both are curious about, a place rather mysterious that I shall write about later.

But for now, come along with me to the following Sunday......

it is a grey day and....

My cab driver is lost, something frankly unheard of in London. As a cold and rather determined mist falls, we hurtle down one street, then another in a very strange and unfamiliar part of the city. Finally I suggest he simply put me out where we are and the embarrassed, but defeated, man agrees. I ask directions of several people along the way and, after a few wonky starts, I finally arrive in the appointed cobblestoned street - late, damp, and more than a bit concerned that Jayne might have given me up as a lost cause. But then I hear my named called and turn to see a lovely red haired woman in a magical coat crossing the street to meet me with a grin on her face. And again, it is as though we had been friends for ages. We wander through Sunday markets, getting delightfully lost, and finally end up in a warm and cozy spot for lunch where we talk for hours about words and writing, subjects dear to both our hearts. We discuss the delight in working out the puzzles of plot and discover, not surprisingly, that we were both the type of child who always asked for books at Christmas. Not once is there a lull in the conversation - not once is there an awkward pause. It is almost dark when Jayne puts me on the correct underground train back to my hotel and, just as with Jeanne, I feel as if I am saying farewell to someone I have known for years.

I suppose there is a lot to lament in the current state of the culture and, Lord knows, I have occasionally participated in that lamentation with vigor. I have whinged over the feared demise of the written word and wrung my hands at the awful diminishment of the beautiful English language. But this past week gifted me with a brand new take on the subject of communication. For just as those who came before us treasured the arrival of the post, for it brought correspondence from those far away, providing a connection unique, and sometimes even deeper than face to face communion could afford, I find I wait eagerly for the next postings of my favourite blogs. Through my enjoyable encounters of this past week, I have found this modern communion to indeed be real and the friendships it affords most authentic.

We reveal ourselves in a different way when we write. Our thoughts float to the surface with a purity unsullied by shyness, free of the distraction of gesture or expression. Such is the power of words and it is delightful to discover that power untempered by the medium in which it is conveyed. I have no doubt that, had the opportunity been available when they were writing, Julia and Avis would have been bloggers extraordinaire, much like my new/old London friends Jeanne and Jayne.

Do stop by and say hello to them both.

I know you will be happy you did.

Jeanne’s blogs .....

Collage of Life

Finding My Way

B-Well for Life

Cashmere Jeans

In One Place

Jayne’s blog, A Novice Novelist

Jet Lag

Jet Lag

The unholy combination of a five hour time change and a nine hour plane flight does something unique to the equilibrium of a normally anchored human being. I speak empirically, for having arrived home yesterday from a perfectly divine trip to London, I now find that my body clock has gone completely haywire. I have no idea what day it is. I neither know, nor particularly care, what time it is. I find myself eating clementines and cheese at three in the morning and nodding off like a pensioner at eight at night.

Edward is beside himself with joy at my return and flatly refuses to leave my side. He’s under my chair when I’m seated, across my feet when I’m in bed. I even have to step over him getting out of the bathtub. Although I was able to talk to him every evening whilst I was away - due to the strange and wonderful powers of Skype - he obviously prefers my physical presence and is determined to make me aware of that fact during every hour of the day.

Thank you all so much for your tantalizing suggestions on what to see and do in London. They were much appreciated. I will share my adventures here soon, and I’m so looking forward to catching up as best I can with all my favourite blogs.

London is a magic, magnificent city, but there’s nothing quite like the welcome home of a big, white, lonesome dog!

To London

To London

“Please write and tell me about London. I live for the day when I step off the boat-train and feel its dirty sidewalks under my feet. I want to walk up Berkeley Square and down Wimpole Street and stand in St. Paul's where John Donne preached and sit on the step Elizabeth sat on when she refused to enter the Tower, and like that. A newspaper man I know, who was stationed in London during the war, says tourists go to England with preconceived notions, so they always find exactly what they go looking for. I told him I'd go looking for the England of English literature, and he said: "Then it's there."

This quotation, taken from the wonderful movie, 84 Charing Cross Road, has always resonated with me, for it is a fairly accurate description of my own feelings about the city of London. So I am off to London today. In search of inspiration, ideas, and felicity. I am wearing an antique locket with Edward’s photograph inside and I’ll write if I can.

Tell me, what should I do whilst I’m there?

The Mystery of Happiness

The Mystery of Happiness

I am someone who refused to ever again wade into the surf higher than my ankles after seeing the movie Jaws. I designed my winter wedding to echo the one in Camelot. I have wept along with Emma Thompson’s Eleanor in Sense and Sensibility, shuddered at the Nazgul in Lord of the Rings, and swooned over Cary Grant in almost every movie he made. As a little girl, I thought Pollyanna was a real person for the longest time and, even now, I find it a bit difficult to look at Anthony Hopkins, so many years after his Hannibal Lecter ruled the big screen. So yes, I am well aware of the power of film. Movies are fun, and so often are we entertained and transported by their magic, I suppose it’s easy to find ourselves surprised when one comes along constructed with the sort of revelatory wings that can soar high above entertainment to enter the realms of art - art capable of illuminating and, perhaps, even redeeming, the human spirit. Director Mike Leigh seems to make these kinds of movies and his latest offering, Another Year, could well be his greatest example.

Compassionate, yet unflinching, Another Year, is a cinematic contemplation on the nature of happiness. It follows a long-married and still in love couple through four seasons of their quotidian life as they cook dinners, tend their allotment garden, snuggle, go to work and entertain friends, all the while enveloped in the quiet folds of obvious contentment. This contentment, this happiness, shines ever more brightly in comparison with the lonely, emotionally impaired lives of some of their friends and we are left with questions to ponder. How is happiness attained, really? It’s obviously important, here in the states our constitution declares its pursuit to be an “unalienable right”. But is it achieved through choice, or genetics?

No doubt, our choices are vital, for we all do reap what we sow, even though the sharpness of that truth is often hidden from us until later in life. But I have those of my acquaintance, as no doubt many of you do as well, who remain rather defiantly unhappy in spite of the good that flows all around them. Quick to point out the cloud that floats inside each silver lining, they hold so tightly to their pessimism that their gloom eventually defines them - they wouldn’t be comfortable without it.

I consider myself fortunate, for I was born with a tendency to see good. My eye seems to spot beauty just about everywhere and I hope I can always recognize what really matters. I take absolutely no credit for this way of seeing the world but this movie made me wonder - is it a bright thread woven in my DNA, or is it something I, perhaps unconsciously, choose?

Films such as Another Year are often overlooked, due, no doubt, to their lack of the sort of bells and whistles known to tickle the ears of the 21st century audience. But it would be a shame to miss this movie, for its gentle revelations place a small crack in the window of our own mysterious humanness and we catch a glimpse of our universal similarities - our pain, our kindness, our tolerance, our grief.

And we leave with questions.

Questions worth pondering.

And after the movie, later that night, The Songwriter was gazing off in the distance with a faraway look, which is not an unusual thing. When I asked him what he was thinking about, he replied, “I’m just so glad we found each other”.

One sentence.

The perfect Valentine gift.

Click to see the trailer for Another Year

The Traveling Coat

The Traveling Coat

I collect coats the way some women collect shoes. Cashmere and capes, camel hair and tweed - keep them far away from me for I need no more. But what a challenging task it can be to resist them. Strangely enough though, given my extensive collection of these garments, whenever I reach for my passport for a wintertime trip, I seem to also, always, reach for the same coat. It's the one I'm wearing in the photograph above, taken at Tintagel, in Cornwall, near Merlin's cave.

It's a near perfect traveling coat - rainproof and windproof, long and black - it has taken me up mountains in the afternoon and out to dinner the same night, without the tiniest sacrifice of comfort or style. I love it. The only problem is, when I look at any photographs taken of my travels, I'm always wearing the same coat. It looks as though I'm on one long interminable journey, instead of several separate ones. Just take a look at the next several photos and you'll see what I mean. These were all unique trips, but they look like the exact same one, all because of that coat. (And yes, I realize my hair stays the same as well, but this post is about coats.)

Edinburgh... love that sign above my head.

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Deep In Thought In A Garden in Aryshire

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Inverlochy Castle Hotel in the Highlands of Scotland

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Coming Through Beatrix Potter's Garden Gate on a Rainy Day in Cumbria

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Sad, isn't it? I have looked for a replacement, believe me. But try as I might, I simply could never find a traveling coat that I liked as much as that one. Then lo and behold, a catalog arrived at my door last week and as I flipped through it over lunch, my eyes fell upon a fabulous coat.

Black - the perfect colour for traveling.

Rainproof - a necessary requirement.

Large pockets - I'm crazy for pockets.

And, a hood! Oh, I do adore a hood.

So yes, I took the plunge and now this new upstart is hanging on my closet door, ready and waiting for its inaugural trip to London next week!

Is it my imagination, or it this an ideal coat for strolling the winter streets of that most magical city?

Looking For Magic in the Year of the Rabbit...A List

Looking For Magic in the Year of the Rabbit...A List

If it wasn’t for that lovely splash of red that occurs on the fourteenth, the entire month of February would be monochromatically grey. Skies and earth share the same hue, obliterating the horizon. The novelty of snow, once so brilliant and clear, has worn rather thin and begun to fray - it doesn’t fit us in quite the same fashion as it did just a few short weeks ago. In fact, there are some days when we would shed it completely, if only the bright cloaks of tulips and clover were safely within our grasp. We stare out the window at the bare naked trees and wonder if green has been permanently retired from Mother Nature’s palette.

Magic doesn’t easily find us.

We must go in search of it.

I was able to find a bit to share, starting with the painting above. That wonderful rabbit is the work of artist Amber Alexander.

You can see more of her work HERE.

Enjoy!

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1. Reading Aloud

As I mentioned in my previous posting, The Songwriter has recently been reading aloud to me at night and the experience has reminded me how wonderful it is to have someone read you a story.

If you have the opportunity to read aloud to someone, grab it.

Let your inner thespian loose and do all the character’s voices.

Make up a theme song for the story you’re reading.

You’ll have as much fun as your lucky listener.

I recently came across these marvelous handmade shadow puppets that would add such delightful drama to storytelling time.

Try the one above with St. George and The Dragon.

See more of these magical puppets HERE.

Find the book HERE.

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2. Tea Parties

I occasionally entertain some of my younger friends at the dining table that sits deep inside the huge magnolia tree in my front garden. There, an antique chandelier hangs overhead, wind chimes and candles sway in the branches and, once inside, one is completely hidden away from anyone who might be passing by.

Unfortunately, this is not the month for such outdoor pursuits.

But how about a special tea party by the fire.

I can only think any child would love to be served tea and cakes on these amazing altered plates.

Whimsical and funny.

Find them HERE.

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3. Stella’s Spring Coat

When I saw this magical new coat by Stella McCartney, I knew spring could not be far away.

Just imagine this paired with slim white trousers and pale pink toenail polish.

Find it HERE.

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4. Handmade Coin Purse

Even an activity as mundane as fishing for the correct change can be elevated a bit when you are opening such a lovely little coin purse.

The beautiful tree serves to remind you that the leaves will be back on the trees in no time.

Find it HERE.

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5. New Books

I suppose all of us are a bit like Mr. Mole in Wind in the Willows when Spring rolls around. We become focused on our homes... throwing open windows, fluffing pillows, arranging flowers. It’s always the time of year when I think about recovering a chair, or looking for a new lampshade. I’m often found out in the garden with a notebook in hand, mulling over new colour combinations for the flower beds. Will it again be white for the back garden and pink for the front? Or should I do something wild and plant orange everywhere I see? Fun decisions, all.

And just in time for this type of inspiration, there are four new books I’m anxious to see.

Take a look and see if you don’t feel the same.

Click on the photos to find the books.

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6. Carpet Bags

I loved Mary Poppins when I was little.

I loved the way she could slide up a banister, loved how she could jump right inside a sidewalk painting.

Oh, how I wished for a talking parrot head umbrella for my very own.

And a carpet bag from which I could produce a floor lamp! Imagine.

Now, I don’t expect to find anything similar inside this bag, but one never knows.

And I just love this.

For short trips or overnight stays, this has magic sprinkled all over it.

Find it HERE.

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7. Feathered Headbands

Every girl needs a bit of glamour on these steely grey days.

No matter how old she is.

Isn’t this the cutest thing ever?

Find it HERE

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8. Magazines

Here in the states, so many magazines have disappeared over the past several years, victims of the turbulent economy. There are still a few that I wait for each month however, ones that cause me to smile each time I see them in my mailbox. Of course, my favourite magazine, UK Country Living, is far too costly to purchase through subscription and so I find it at the local book shop. It is a happy evening when I can spend it deep inside the pages of that delightful magazine, despite the fact that reading it always leaves me with a ardent wish to own a pig. Or maybe a couple of goats.

And just recently, I discovered a new magazine that has me totally entranced. It’s called Selvedge and it’s divine.

If you can find it, you’ll be glad.

See it HERE.

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9. Macbook Air

I’m rarely excited by technology, I’m really not.

But I simply couldn’t resist this.

Like magic, it’s less than an inch thick, thin as a saltine cracker and weighs less than two and a half pounds.

It’s going with

me everywhere.

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10. Valentines

There was a little boy in my first grade class who always wore a bright red blazer, complete with a crest on the pocket, and he gave me a Valentine on Valentine’s Day. The significant thing about this story is that I remember it. Valentine’s Day is like that. Memories are made on this day.

So, go out to lunch together and split a slice of Key Lime Pie.

Take a walk in the fresh air and hold hands.

Steal a kiss in a romantic movie.

Or, fill one of these boxes with chocolates, or diamonds, and give it to someone you love. I only have two left, and I’ve popped them into my etsy shoppe.

Find one HERE. SOLD

And the other one HERE. SOLD

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11. Garden Gates

The most charming gate I’ve ever opened guarded a tiny church in the village of Buttermere in the Lake District of England.

But this one has its own special charm.

Can’t you just imagine this one in your very own rose garden?

Find it HERE.

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12. Finished Sweaters!

I love this photograph of Vanessa Redgrave and her daughter, Natasha.

And, once upon a time, if I had been told that I would knit my very own sweater and wear it out to Sunday lunch, I would have certainly have expected magic, and lots of it, would have to be involved.

But lo! That is precisely what happened.

And I am proud as a peacock!!

Here’s the finished product.

Believe me, magic exists.

Even in February.