The generosity of spirit of this elegant couple is legendary.
They are our heroes.
A little tribute to first Valentines: our wonderful parents were married 50 years last June. What they have taught us about love and service and caring for others could fill many books. Here, we simply fill a few lines with these words: Love You, Mom and Dad. Valentine Blessings, every day.
The cute little guy in this picture is celebrating his fifteenth birthday today. His mom is scratching her head (without the sunglasses on...I've long since lost the ones above) and trying to figure out how time doth fly so quickly. Well, in any case, she is taking solace in the immortal words of T. Bone Burnett (see posts, below) and finds extreme happiness in the reality that the passing time, current time, and time to come are all times filled with the love of this little (now 5'7") guy, his wonderful siblings, and the rest of our utterly awesome spread-around-the-world family. Happy Birthday, E! Sending love and best wishes...to all.
"When I was young, I used to write all the time. My father asked me if I was going to be a writer, and I said I thought I probably was, and he said, 'Don't publish anything until you're fifty, because before then, you won't know what you're talking about.' I was never able to forget those words - even if I didn't know what he was talking about at the time - so there was always a part of me that was standing back from what I was doing. But I have to admit, he was right. Somewhere along the way I heard that everything we remember Sophocles for, he wrote between the ages of 50 and 70. That was an inspiring thought, to say the least. I couldn't have written these songs or made this record until now, without having seen the things I've seen and without having gone through the things I've gone through."
A few more favorites from Ann Sacks. I'd put the peonies, above, around an outdoor vestibule. They make my heart swell with happiness. They speak of peace. I'd love passing through them each time I came home. Joy. (I don't know if Ann & Co. call them peonies, but that is what they are to me.)
These are brilliant, and remind me of dogwood trees in the woods back home, Virginia and New York: of something sacred and strong. They connote safety. Maybe eternity?
These are copper. They are like brave pennies that have been magically transformed...that, alone, makes me want to line them up so that they might march behind my stove and countertop. There is something very happy about these marching ex-pennies. Something warm.
This is grace and growth, a lovely geometry for one's home.
Mad about these. Recycled, if I recall. Nifty luster, warm
silvery strength that will play happy foil to Master Stainless.
Richard Habib was a most excellent guide as we swept through his space (Alexander's Decorative Rugs)...there's much to learn: Richard has an astonishing breadth of knowledge. And a great view (just look through that window!).
Once the French Revolution really got rolling, you'd probably want to have hidden this gorgeous piece of work (Vive Le Roi). Don't lose your head over it. Just pack it up tidily and dash off in nearest non-gilded carriage. Send Marie Antoinette lovely thank-you letter. Get out of town. Stow treasured needlework in voluminous skirt. Go. Now.