Yesterday afternoon my new friend Jessica came over for tea. At 4 o'clock. A rather proper tea I might add. Unusual for this dyed in the wool New England village.
Nonetheless, I dusted off (rinsed out really) my underused blue on grey porcelain Royal Copenhagen Tranguebar tea and coffee service schlepped by my parents on the plane from their wintertime visit to Denmark in 1969. Gifts for each of their three girls. Not sure what Willy received, but I am confident it wasn't a tea service.
Mom disembarked into the International Terminal at JFK in New York wearing a most gorgeous pin seal coat from Berger Christianson ... (which incidentally hangs four decades later in my closet lengthened six inches from its original style when dresses and skirts were Mary Quant short-short never to be worn again for fear of someone throwing red paint in my direction protesting the murder of innocent endangered Scandinavian sea mammals). Not sure what Dad's souvenir was ... although I do remember some Aquavit on the bar when I was home that Christmas.
Jessica is my cohort at the cavernous 12,000 square foot antiques shop where I dally on a very very limited part-time basis ... and she works regularly.
Jessica, the self-proclaimed Obama Mama hales from a Nordic line herself and has the lemon white locks and azure eyes to prove it. She is an interior designer who needn't rely on workrooms because she can slipcover and make curtains like no one's business. A bona fide pizza oven is nested into the wall of her study next to the fireplace where her organic flatbread creations utilize only those ingredients grown in her five-acre yard replete with pond and cat-tails in the country. The whole wheat flour ground by her own hand from select crops across our country. She is most talented. Knowing Jessica is like having a jack-of-all homemaking trades at my disposal.
But one of the most fascinating parts of Jessica's not-so-hidden allure is her ability to commune with nature spirits and, using herbs and tinctures grown around the pond in her lush vast gardens, make concoctions that heal what ails you. No. Not the psychedelics. But real remedies like the Native Americans or early pioneers.
So when she appeared at my front door she first regaled in my home. Its lovely accessorized and wallpapered rooms, an eclectic mix of antiques and hand-me-downs from my grandmothers with a pink flamingo lamp or a contemporary brass sculpture tossed in casually. She loved my home. And that made me smile.
But then she wanted to know which door (I have five leading to the outdoors. Imagine five in an 1800 square foot home!) I use to enter and exit the house.
We share an eclectic spirit, adventuresome sensibilities (read: wanderlust) an insane Dolphin energy.
Cheers to my new friend and local cohort!
Nonetheless, I dusted off (rinsed out really) my underused blue on grey porcelain Royal Copenhagen Tranguebar tea and coffee service schlepped by my parents on the plane from their wintertime visit to Denmark in 1969. Gifts for each of their three girls. Not sure what Willy received, but I am confident it wasn't a tea service.
Mom disembarked into the International Terminal at JFK in New York wearing a most gorgeous pin seal coat from Berger Christianson ... (which incidentally hangs four decades later in my closet lengthened six inches from its original style when dresses and skirts were Mary Quant short-short never to be worn again for fear of someone throwing red paint in my direction protesting the murder of innocent endangered Scandinavian sea mammals). Not sure what Dad's souvenir was ... although I do remember some Aquavit on the bar when I was home that Christmas.
Jessica is my cohort at the cavernous 12,000 square foot antiques shop where I dally on a very very limited part-time basis ... and she works regularly.
Jessica, the self-proclaimed Obama Mama hales from a Nordic line herself and has the lemon white locks and azure eyes to prove it. She is an interior designer who needn't rely on workrooms because she can slipcover and make curtains like no one's business. A bona fide pizza oven is nested into the wall of her study next to the fireplace where her organic flatbread creations utilize only those ingredients grown in her five-acre yard replete with pond and cat-tails in the country. The whole wheat flour ground by her own hand from select crops across our country. She is most talented. Knowing Jessica is like having a jack-of-all homemaking trades at my disposal.
But one of the most fascinating parts of Jessica's not-so-hidden allure is her ability to commune with nature spirits and, using herbs and tinctures grown around the pond in her lush vast gardens, make concoctions that heal what ails you. No. Not the psychedelics. But real remedies like the Native Americans or early pioneers.
So when she appeared at my front door she first regaled in my home. Its lovely accessorized and wallpapered rooms, an eclectic mix of antiques and hand-me-downs from my grandmothers with a pink flamingo lamp or a contemporary brass sculpture tossed in casually. She loved my home. And that made me smile.
But then she wanted to know which door (I have five leading to the outdoors. Imagine five in an 1800 square foot home!) I use to enter and exit the house.
We share an eclectic spirit, adventuresome sensibilities (read: wanderlust) an insane Dolphin energy.
Cheers to my new friend and local cohort!
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