Vintage Cottage Style for Spring

It's been so cold and dreary and I have been 

yearning for Spring! 

 Since I can't change the weather outside, I decided to bring springtime in. 

This was easily accomplished by dipping into my collection of vintage floral and crocheted linens.

All inexpensive and gathered over time. 

I also added my collection of vintage McCoy pottery to my Kitchen Queen cabinet. 

I started collecting this pottery as a young bride. Over the years I have added a piece here and there. 

I love the pink and blue stripes. 

My Dear Mother also gave me several pieces. 

They coordinate so nicely with my Robin's Egg Blue pottery. 

I've added a sweet rose sprigged tablecloth and a vase of dried roses to my table. 

On the table in front of my daybed, I've placed a few little springtime treasures. 

The soft green painted tray and crocheted lining were thrift store finds. 

I wrapped a simple fluted glass vase with soft gray lace and pinned it with a sparkly brooch. 

The flowering branches are silk - another thrift store find. 

I draped a pink beaded necklace on the tray and added two silver candle pots- sweet gifts from special loved ones. 

I draped some vintage crocheted tablecloths over a rod and added a garland of grape vine hearts. 

I replaced a winter scene I had hanging here with this bird painting from the pages of a book. 

Again, a thrift store find. 

Keeping with the springtime theme, I hung this shadow box over my daybed. What signifies spring more than birds, butterflies and flowers? 

This dear little shadow box was a Christmas gift from my son's sweetheart, Jen. It is magnetic and there are two butterfly magnets to hold sweet mementos. 

The three little quail were my Dear Mother's. 

Here you can see the butterfly magnets holding a sweet vintage booklet, entitled 'Words of Friendship'. 

A precious gift from my Dear Sister-in-Law, Donna. 

I am holding one close so you can see the detail. 

Opposite my daybed, I have added some glass crocks holding vintage photos and jello molds. 

I collect both. 

This little pillow was made from a vintage silk embroidered handkerchief. I hand sewed it onto some pale pink chiffon and added the tiny lace trim. I tucked some sweet home made potpourri inside in a small drawstring pouch and then stuffed it. 

The rest of the pillows are vintage flowered pillow slips. I simply slipped the existing pillows inside and tucked in the ends. 

Place your pillow inside and then grasp the end of one side of the pillow slip in the middle, forming a point. Tuck this carefully inside the case behind the pillow. 

Fold down the other side (inside) and smooth out any wrinkles. 

You can whip stitch this closed with heavy quilting thread so you can clip it if you need to wash it, or just leave it be and turn this side to the bottom. 

That way, you can change them any time you want to redecorate and they are easy to remove for washing! 

To add to the springtime atmosphere, I hung some colorful vintage pot holders. 

I found these for only $2 packaged in a plastic bag all together at my local thrift store. 

They are so bright and cheerful and something I probably wouldn't find time to make myself. 

I hope my Vintage Cottage Style decorating inspires you to bring a little springtime inside for yourself. 

Look around your own home to re-purpose linens and lace. 

Dust off that china you have stored away. 

Take a peek inside your local thrift store to find some inexpensive treasures. 

My Grandmother, Beatrice Euphemie would approve. 

xoxo
Linking to:  Young Heart Old Soul
Weekly Thrift
  http://www.youngheartoldsoul.com/2013/02/thrifted-link-up.html

Birthday Celebrations

This past weekend we celebrated three special birthdays.

One was for my sweet sister, Kim. Here she is with me when we were children. I am on the right.

Isn't she precious?

My sister Kim is my closest sister in age to me.

We share a lot of history!

Not only that, but we share these two - our daughter's Erin and Jennie - who are only one month apart in age!

Can you see the family resemblance?

Two Scots - Irish Lasses.

The 4 of us had a lovely birthday celebration at our favorite Italian Restaurant.

We also celebrated our beautiful Jen's birthday. She is my youngest son, Dustin's sweetheart.

From left to right, Cousin Shawnee, my daughter's Jennie and Heather, the birthday girl, Jen, and my daughter-in-love Erica.

We ate at our favorite Mexican restaurant.

Doesn't it look delicious?

The lighting in the lobby was amazing.

Afterwards we did some shopping.

Every store we went in had their own little mascot or two!

It is a very dog friendly town! The Seattle area is known for its dog lovers. There were dogs of all types and sizes coming in and out of all the shops!

When my husband Dennis had a sales meeting at Amazon's corporate offices last week (in Seattle), he told me that while he was waiting for his appointment, people kept coming and going with dogs on leashes. He finally asked why, and the receptionist told him that employees are allowed to bring their dogs to work!

Now that's a happy place to work!

Seattle is also known for it's coffee.

Here's our birthday girl finishing up with a cup of espresso.

We love our coffee!

The third birthday we celebrated was my Dad's.

We made the long scenic drive to place flowers in his honor.

He shares this beautiful place with all the other veterans at Tahoma National Cemetery.

It was a beautiful, sunny morning.

On the way home we took some photos of the countryside.

It's a pretty and peaceful drive through forest and farmland.

Thank you for coming along to share in our birthday celebrations.

Special days to mark the journey of our lives.

From beginning to end, it is spending time with those we love that give our lives meaning.

xoxo

In Praise of Friendship

Lately I have been reflecting on my nearly two year's of blogging.

And I have to say, I have enjoyed every minute of it.

Getting to know you has been a wonderful experience.

I have learned so many things from you and about you.

I've tried new recipes and crafts.

I've seen beautiful places.

I've looked at the world through your unique perspective.

And I've made some wonderful friends.

"There is no wilderness like a life without friends:

friendship multiplies blessings and minimizes misfortunes;

it is a unique remedy against adversity, and it soothes the soul"

Baltazar Gracian

I've shared your joys and sorrows.

And you've shared mine.

"I should like to tell you again of my bitter troubles so that mutually, by recounting our grief, we can lighten each other's sorrow."

The Kanteletar

We've laughed and cried, shared great thoughts and the little day to day things that make us smile.

And even though we all live different lives, we are all very much the same.

We may live far apart, but we are all so very close.

"I am learning to live close to the lives of my friends without ever seeing them. No miles of any measurement can separate your soul from mine."

John Muir

We love our families, we love our pets.

And we love our friends.  

I've met the most amazing group of people, so giving and caring.

And so very talented.

Photographers, writers, poets, artists, cooks, craftspeople, decorators, stylists.

"Writers seldom choose as friends those self-contained characters who are never in trouble, never unhappy or ill, never make mistakes, and always count their change when it is handed to them."

Catherine Bowen

The friends I've met are always quick to boost your spirits, cheer you up, make you smile, share your sorrows, and hold your hand in times of need.

They're not afraid to open their doors and open their hearts.

"Kind words can be short and easy to speak, but their echoes are truly endless."

Mother Theresa

I've learned a lot since my first post almost two years ago.

But the best thing I have learned is how truly wonderful you all are.

Thank you for sharing this journey with me so far.

It's been a beautiful trip.

" Since there is nothing so well worth having as friends, never lose a chance to make them."

Francesco Guicciardini

xx

Back from my Break

 Mom and Dad on their wedding day, 1953

Thank you, all my sweet reader's for your kind messages while I took my little break. 

It means so much. 

The truth is, I have been dealing with a little grief. 

I wrote this one night recently when I couldn't sleep:

Grief is like a thief, sneaking up on you when you least expect it, robbing you of your peace of mind. And just like a thief, it hides behind the darkness, in the quiet hours of the night.

You must confront it and you struggle and try to push it away. But there it is and you give in and hand over your heart to this thief in the night. They say that time will heal, but while you wait, the sleepless nights take your soul and leave you wandering alone in that empty space of yearning.

Oh, for one more day, one more touch, one more time to gaze upon the loving face, to hear the sound of a beloved voice, to walk the weary road together, just once more! A fool’s dream, wake up! Wake up! You must let go, and leave the past behind to weave sweet memories around your heart to ease the lonesome pain.

Be on your way you heartless thief and leave me to my slumber. To mingle sweet and loving thoughts with dreams of peaceful memories. 

My Beautiful Mother - 1955

I started this blog just one month after my Dear Mother's death. I missed her so much; our little chats, her warm and cozy kitchen where I was welcome any time, the sharing of our day to day lives, knowing she was there if I ever needed her. 

And now the 2nd anniversary of her passing is coming up. 

I made it through the holidays. 

But now my Father's birthday is near. 

It's been only 6 months now since he passed. 

Dad's Graduation and as a freckled face boy

I thought I was doing well and getting over my grief. But just like a thief in the night, it can come upon you suddenly when you least expect it. 

Losing them both, so close together has been hard. 

Grief is something people don't like to talk about. It makes them uncomfortable and you are expected to 'move on'. 

And so you keep it close to your heart, afraid of showing your feelings, because it makes others uncomfortable. They don't know what to say, and they are surprised when after time, you are

not 'over it'. 

And yes, you do go on and get over the pain, but once in a while it comes back to hit you and you need time to deal with it. 

My Father died after a long journey into Alzheimer's. It wasn't a sudden passing, but a long and sad one, watching as he gradually lost all memory of his life, of his loved ones.

My Mother died in sorrow, with the husband she had loved for over 58 years, unable to remember who she was. 

But one month before he died, on Memorial Day, my Dear Husband and I went to visit him. And he gifted us with one last day of lucidity. Although he could no longer speak, it was clear that he recognized us and was delighted in our presence. He smiled and even laughed. He held our hands tightly and nodded his head when we spoke to him. We were so amazed, that we stayed for hours, not willing to give up this precious time with him. It was truly a special gift. 

We had no idea that this would be his last gift to us, and shortly before that visit, I had written an article about him for The News Tribune. 

Here is that article, in honor of my Father's birthday. 

And thank you, Dear Reader's for staying with me and for all of your support and encouragement over these last two years. 

I couldn't have done it without you. 

Tradition Lives On, In Memory of Those Long Forgotten

The road to my destination only descends. I’ve just come to realize this, like some magical revelation, even though I’ve traveled this road many times before. I wind my way through forests and farmland, always downhill, until I reach the slender river valley along the bottom. The river that I follow is the same one I hear on quiet, still nights from my mountain home and we flow in the same direction. I am on my way to visit someone I love dearly, but who doesn’t know me. In many ways my long, slow descent to this little valley symbolizes my loved one’s journey to this same destination.

I’ve traveled this road many times over the long years between then and now. Those were happy journeys; Sunday drives with family, antiquing forays with a Mother now gone, and Fourth of July and Memorial Day celebrations at the very place I journey to now. These scenes flash before my eyes as I wind my way along past fields and farms and familiar landmarks, unchanged by the passing of time.

My heart expands and grows heavy as these long ago memories fill my mind, fill my eyes with the mists of time and blur the road in front of me. I force myself to take a deep breath and think of happier times; the picnics, the laughter, the joyful noise of family excursions.

I am almost there, with one last memory of how every Memorial Day since I was a child, he would place a wreath on the grave of a long forgotten soldier. As a child I would help him find that special soldier’s resting place. He kept that tradition all of his life, a tribute to those brave fallen soldiers.

I arrive at the familiar entrance; the stately old trees standing guard over the manicured grounds. I read the sign, ‘Washington State Soldier’s Home.’ I think with a stabbing pain in my heart of how we would tease about sending him here when he became an old man, when we came for holiday celebrations, back when we were all shining and young.

I see him as he was then, bright blue eyes, strong and sure. A lover of life, patient and kind, the hardest worker I ever knew. Here was a man elected President of his local Steelworker’s Union, who served on his hometown Finance Committee. The only person I knew who could solve algebraic equations in his head. He was a man who proudly served his country back when the Army and Air Force was one branch, who was married to one woman for 58 years and who raised his family of 5 daughters, never once making them feel that he ever regretted not having a boy.  This was a man who built his own home. Twice. The last one just a stone’s throw from my own.

And here I am. I walk through the familiar doors. I seek him out in the labyrinth of corridors and bright sunny rooms. I kiss his cheek, pale and soft as a baby’s. He doesn’t open his eyes. He doesn’t know me. He is my Father and he has Alzheimer’s.

The same Father who proudly looked on as I recited the poem, ‘ In Flanders Fields’ in the center of my hometown during that long ago Memorial Day, when I was in the 5^th grade.  I was shy and soft spoken, but he helped me memorize the lines, project my voice, and bolstered my confidence by telling me he would be right there to cheer me on.

It was a gradual journey, this long, slow descent. Like my journey here. Past the familiar landmarks of the mind, the fertile fields of memory, down the long, slow road to forgetfulness. At first the scenery was sometimes familiar, but gradually he became lost in the fog.  He will never take the road back.

But I must make the long ascent back home, for now I am the memory keeper, the witness, the story teller.  Now it is I who hold the keys to the past.  Now it is up to me to uphold the proud tradition of placing the wreath on that long forgotten soldier’s grave. 

Happy Birthday, Dad. 

I love you both, and will always miss you.

xx

Taking a Break

It's time for me to take a little blogger's break. Life is calling. I will be back soon......

xoxo