cutouts and contrast stitching

 

 

For some inexplicable reason, I am oddly drawn to these shoes. It might be the red, or it might have something to do with the inordinate number of fairy tales I have been reading lately.

tassels and poms

A few pieces from Aleishall Girard Maxon's collection for Nonchalant Mom.

They make me want to start making pompoms posthaste.

working on: salt dough ornaments

I have a guest post up today at Katy Elliott's blog about making salt dough ornaments. For more pictures, go here.

four day holiday

 

 

 

 

 

Over the past four days, there has been a lot of cooking, a lot of eating, a lot of walking, a lot of napping and one happy, tired dog.

Also a lot of bench dedications - many of the benches in Central Park and quite a few in Riverside Park have little silver plaques screwed to them with brief messages of all sorts. I like to keep an eye out for the good ones - some can bring a tear to your eye, and some can make you laugh out loud. 

sunday tune: mazzy star - flowers in december

sunday tune: julie doiron - snowfalls in november

With the big move to the city and this lingering, mild fall, I feel like I have been put under some sort of spell where time has changed and become unfamiliar. I've missed seeing snow this month.

a change in season

this weekend

Leftovers. Also:

• matinees
• milkmaids 
• naps
  
• brunch with friends

Happy weekend.

Illustration by Nura P. via Ffffound.

grace

My first job out of college was teaching at a private primary school. One of the school traditions was that every day after lunch, all of the children would sing a short grace of thanksgiving, often in rounds. It only took a minute or two, but it settled them down for the afternoon ahead and was completely wonderful. I never got tired of it. My family is not religious, but since then we almost always use one of the graces I learned there at the end of holiday meals.

I.
We give thanks and celebration for this food that we may share,
and we seek a world where hunger is not present anywhere.
Alleluia.

II.
We love our bread and we love our butter,
But most of all we love each other.

III.
Oh, the Lord is good to me
And so I thank the Lord
For giving me
The things I need
The sun and the rain and the apple seed -
The Lord is good to me.
Ah-men!

The last one was my favorite. Happy Thanksgiving.

imaginary outfit: going to the thanksgiving parade

Instead of going to family in Ohio, Delaware or Massachusetts, we decided to stay in the city and have our own small feast this year. Tomorrow we'll get up and walk to the parade, just to see what it is like, and then we'll head home for a day of roasting and braising, kneading and concocting, and sneaking treats to a yellow dog (well, I'll be doing that) before curling up with blankets and hot toddies to watch old movies.

We have a lot to be thankful for this year. We are grateful that we are in a place, new as it is to us, that feels like home already. A lot of that, for me, is due to you, the people who visit this blog. It's been a place of steadiness for me in a season of change. Since we've moved, I've discovered a ready-made world of new friends and neighbors waiting for me thanks to the community of readers that has somehow grown up around this site. They have made what could have been an incredibly lonely time a wonderful one.

So, readers met and unmet, vocal and silent - thank you. Happy Thanksgiving.

parades

  

 

I wish the parade was still like this.

Photos from here.

the laughter of friends

From Square America.

songs to listen to, again and again

Sviatoslav Richter plays Ravel's Pavane pour une Infante Defunte. Live recording, 1954.

When I was eighteen, I used to lay on the floor, put on my headphones, and listen to this over and over.