Wonderfully White Wednesday!

'Tis my privilege to add my contribution to our celebration
of all things white. Many thanks to the lovely Kathleen
of Faded Charm , our gracious hostess.

I find myself in a domestically white frame of mind this week....

My sugar server perched atop a vintage table...

On a whim I turned this finger vase on its side~
doesn't it now resemble a row of hungry fish?!

Milk glass all packed up and headed to its new home....

I finally found the perfect chippy white kitchen scale I'd long been seeking!

So much beauty to be found within, in the ordinary and utilitarian.

But let's never forget the beauty which lies just beyond the kitchen door....

Happy White Wednesday!

~ Anne

The friend I've never met....

When I visit a blog, I have no set rules on what I hope to find there....
a little eye candy is nice, usually in the form of something vintage or whimsical or just slightly off-kilter.
Even more so, I truly appreciate someone who can turn a phrase well,
who can draw remarkably vivid word pictures with such clarity
that I feel as though I've known them for  ages.

     Elizabeth Maxson of Elizabeth House

   is just such a person.

I remember well the first time I came across her blog. 

I was hooked instantly, this gal had it all! 

Impeccable style, unerring grace, the uncanny ability to transform the ordinary

into something transcendant.

Yep, she had all of those attributes in spades.

But that wasn't what kept me glued to my monitor reading her posts 

for the better part of an afternoon. 

It was her willingness to get real, to risk vulnerability, to share her hopes, her dreams, her fears.

All the rest, the striking visuals and the lyrical prose, was just icing.

I will likely never meet Elizabeth Maxson in person, but ultimately, that matters little. 

To borrow and tweak her customary sig line, 

she has sent so much of herself to all of her readers,  from her house to ours.

That's the sort of blogger I want to be, too.

So, in the spirit of "getting real", I have to admit that I've been 

wrestling with a lot of fears and insecurities 

regarding the direction I hope to take with this blog. 

Nothing specific or insurmountable, just a mish-mash of irrational neuroses 

forming an interior perfect storm. 

I have absolutely no intention of letting these pestering doubts derail me, 

but it's been a bit of a struggle of late to keep the faith. 

I'll share more on this as the days progress, 

but suffice it to say that today and tonight have been a low point.

No pretty pictures in this entry, save for the one of lovely Elizabeth. 

Just a little peek into my noggin with the hope that the cobwebs and tumbleweeds 

in there haven't scared you off!

Blah, blah, blah, wrap it up, Annie.  ;-)

Goodnight, sweet friends.

~ Anne

White Wednesday

I am pleased and honored to be contributing
to White Wednesday for the very first time.
Getting this one in a wee bit early as it's an early day tomorrow.

Many thanks to Kathleen at Faded Charm!

       

 My creamy white vase 

with such lovely feminine curves....

St. Francis among the ivy....

A solemn Madonna encircled
by my mother-of-pearl rosary.....

                                         

 My fairy tale wedding dress....

Happy White Wednesday...

~Anne

Tree of Life....

I am completely mesmerized by this tree.

I pass it each day on the way home from work,
and it's long been my intention to photograph it and share it with my readers.

There's something so tragically grand about it ~
arms lifted Heavenward, spindly, thirsty fingers twisted
and reaching downward for sustenance.
Mind you, this is not the result of our recent drought,
it has been dead or dying for many years now.

By trade, I am a Respiratory Therapist in a hospital setting;
it has been my lifelong vocation to offer
comfort and healing to the sick and dying....is it perhaps for this reason
that I feel empathy, daresay even a kinship with this tenacious survivor?

It brings to mind the venerable words of poet Alfred Joyce Kilmer...

I think that I shall never see

A poem lovely as a tree.

A tree whose hungry mouth is prest

Against the earth's sweet flowing breast;

A tree that looks at God all day,

And lifts her leafy arms to pray;

A tree that may in Summer wear

A nest of robins in her hair;

Upon whose bosom snow has lain;

Who intimately lives with rain.

Poems are made by fools like me,

But only God can make a tree.

Amen.

Big Orange Betty

It's going to be tough to part with her
once I get a booth or shop off the ground and running.

Oh, my apologies, I haven't introduced you
to my newest family member yet.....this is Big Orange Betty.....

She's a little self conscious about her height,
being 7 feet and all. A chunky hearty farm gal
from the plains of Minnesota, donchaknow.
How she made it to a flea market in the Texas Hill Country
is likely a tale to rival the very best of Lewis and Clark!
And don't ya dare even think about calling her Ugly Betty...
why she'd just as soon whomp you upside the head
with a rolling pin as put up with that sort of sass.

One of the local antique store Proprietoresses (is that a word?)
had her eye on Betty for a few weeks prior.
I know this because said Shop Owner is a friendly acquaintance,
and we've shared tales of our latest finds and acquisitions.

On the morning I picked Betty up from the market,
my trusty friend Junker Earl informed me that Shop Owner
had come by bright and early before I had arrived
to make doubly sure that I still wanted Betty and was
planning on picking her up. ]I know for a fact
that Betty wouldn't have left with her anyway....even though I got her for a steal at $85,
Shop Owner has a glorious shop full of beautiful but pricey treasures.
Betty, being a simple gal, instinctively felt more at home with me.

So, me and dutiful husband and dutiful friend loaded her up
and off we went. Got her home and began to play dress-up....

A little strip of burlap to temporarily cover the stains....

Enough lollygagging Betty, time to get to work!

Out with the unpacked wedding china,
into your watchful bosom, old girl.

She's going to be tough to say goodbye to on that fateful day,
but say goodbye I will. My shop will need a good-hearted,
big-boned sentry like Betty to keep an eye on things.....donchaknow?

Do they speak to you, too?

I do tend to anthropomorphize my belongings,
I believe I mentioned that in an earlier entry.

My divine Carol Hicks Bolton couch is named Babette.
And even though I most certainly do not
consider my cat Winnie a belonging
(she is my daughter, after all),
I do have the odd moment every now and again
when I feel certain she's a tiny little human inside a cat suit.

But it goes beyond that.....look closely at my small vase above.
Where the crackling is on the glaze, the slight darkening resembles
nothing so much as veins and arteries. "It's Alive" she exclaimed!
After all, I'm positive that she spoke to the very core of who I am
and what I love when she came home with me 12 years ago.
And she's been speaking to and inspiring me ever since.

They speak to you too though, don't they?

That whispery yet persistent voice which tells you
that home for them is whichever way and whereever place you're heading.
I mean, how else to explain the absolute "right-ness"
of that one very special piece we all own?
The one we were sure we couldn't afford
yet could not imagine leaving the market without?
It's their fault....they speak to us.

They can be pesky and strident little boogers when they find their mark....
even so far as haunting our thoughts and dreams
in the days and months to follow
should we not heed their supplications
and invite them back to our domicile.
Armed with regret and hopeful anticipation,
we invariably head back to the marketplace and find,
to our utter dismay, that they spoke a bit
more loudly to someone else....who listened.

Shhhhhh, I think I hear Babette.....

back for my next post after I learn
what's on her mind this fine Wednesday.

This post was edited to remove
any photos not taken by myself, Anne Lorys.

"New and Improved"?

Originally posted August, 2009

I recently scored an absolutely amazing vintage china cabinet

at a local flea market...to say I got it for a steal
would be a gross understatement.

It was such a steal that I even felt a momentary twinge of guilt

as I loaded up my treasure, knowing full well
that what I got for a mere $85(!)

was going for upwards of $600 just a few blocks away
at the chi-chi antique stores in town.

Upon getting it home and placing it in the kitchen corner,

I began to fill my newfound gem
with wedding china and household wares

procured two years ago, but heretofore unpacked.

Hooray, I thought!

At last, a fitting showcase for my shiny, new Calphalon,

my glistening Corningware, my sparkling ivory Mikasa.

The new juxtaposed against the old,

the timeless contrasting sharply with the transient.

Would my designer label china have looked any more elegant

displayed in a modern, new Ethan Allen piece?

Some might say yes.

But like so many of you, the inherent beauty in what others

might perceive as junk is this:

my chippy, peeling, flea-market find has lived a life.

Not to anthropomorphize, but it has tales to tell.

Each chip, each dent, each coffee-stain ring
speaks to an existence

foreign to my own, yet strangely similar.

Utilitarian practicality is now sharing the stage
with stylistic functionality,

but to us junkers, the beauty has always been evident,

even if Farmer Jones and the Missus might not have fully

recognized it before relegating it to the storage shed.

Yes, my pristine Mikasa serving pieces

have a resplendence all their own,

but they have yet to live a life.

They still have much to learn
from the wisened old veteran

which provides them harborage.

I'm hoping they will confer,
as we would all be wise to do

in our own small corners of the world,
be they kitchen or otherwise.

*** this is a re-post from August 2009***

From the quaint little town that gave you Carol Hicks Bolton and Homestead...

I'm aware that many of you bloggers and shop owners are well acquainted with the enchanting work of designer Carol Hicks Bolton and Homestead. I'm abundantly blessed to live just a short 20 miles down the road from this iconic store in Fredericksburg, Texas, and have been inspired by the creativity of Carol and her husband Tim for nigh on 20 years now.

Please allow me to introduce you to yet another inspiring shop nestled in the Texas Hill Country, Red.

Link to store:

http://redinfred.com/

Link to blog:

http://redinfred.blogspot.com/

So what are you waiting for? Click on their links and go get inspired!

Pax,

Anne