A Little Pink Dooryard Garden

 

 

 

The size of Jane's garden has grown smaller over some ninety years. But it's every bit as beautiful as ever.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Special gifts and treasures are still tucked here and there inside its diminutive world.

 

She still has a green thumb, even though someone else may have to do the digging and heavy lifting. (And it helps to live in the garden of Eden that is Santa Barbara, CA.)

 

 

 

Ths is the pretty potted garden shelf right outside her patio door.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I love to see all the pretty shades of pink when I visit! All the walls of her home are a light shade of pink too.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Too bad it isn't quite small enough to pack away in my luggage to bring home!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Thanks so much for stopping by!

 

Jacqueline

 

 

 

Twilight Tea

I inherited this German bone china tea service from my mother-in-law. I really enjoy the subtle color of the blossoms inside the bowl of the cup. This set really sings when you use it, and chimes very like crystal.

We are set up more for coffee than tea after dinner. And we are enjoying the full leaf of the ivy after a long bare winter. The vines transform the north side of our house.

Twilight is such an enchanting time of day. Sounds grow hushed with the fading of the light. Songbirds give way to chirping crickets.

The full daylight seems too harsh for the pale pink hues of this china pattern. I find it more suited for the evening hours.

The color becomes almost mauve in the fading light. And the gold trim seems to ask for the glow of candlelight.

Ivy covered walls have such drama. A perfect stage for dessert.

A dainty cup for a dainty chair.

I was lucky enough to come across this set of flatware with the family monogram. But any letter suits me. I like the romance of monograms in general.

Wouldn't it be a nice ritual to end every evening meal like this? Gathered up and peaceful to end a hectic day?

This setting reminded me so much of the beginning to the Merchant Ivory film of Howard's End that I had to look up the text to E. M. Forrester's novel.

"Oh, the beautiful vine leaves," Helen writes in her letter to Meg. "The house is covered with a vine...

". . . Mrs Wilcox was already in the garden. . . she walked off the lawn to the meadow. . . Trail, trail went her long dress over the sopping grass, and she came back with her hands full of the hay that was cut yesterday--I suppose for rabbits or something, as she kept on smelling it. The air here is delicious."

"And finally Mrs. Wilcox reappears, trail, trail, still smelling hay and looking at the flowers. I inflict all this on you because once you said that life is sometimes life and sometimes only a drama, and one must learn to distinguish tother from which, and up to now I have always put that down as 'Meg's clever nonsense.' But [just now]. . . it really does seem not life but a play. . ."

Ciao! Thank you for stopping by!

Jacqueline

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