Princess Autumn is happy to show off an antique gown.
The title says it all. Here is Autumn, our princess. She’s not 100-years-old, but 9 months, and comes complete with teeth, crawling agility skills, and potential for climbing.
Autumn is sporting a 100+-year-old cotton dress. Notice the intricate stitching and detail as she chews on her hair brush. See the tiny buttons stitched to the opening on the back of the dress. Allow your gaze to appreciate the length of the long dress and long sleeves. For posing and walking, this ankle length gown is divine. For crawling, gnawing, and drooling, maybe not so perfect. Over 100 years ago, this antique gown was handcrafted by a loving and skilled female member of the family. I adore vintage.
Throwback Thursday welcomes Princess Autumn, which is kind of ironic, as she has not even had that many Thursdays…yet.
Shouldn’t have eaten that last donut. No longer a size 7.5.
Sigh.
(Reblogged from 2010)
In honor of those pets we’ve loved and lost. Meet Annabelle, who was spending time with mommy and trying to nonchalantly fit inside her box. Miss you, my beautiful tuxedo cat fur baby.
A childhood song came dancing through my mind this morning, singing to the new year and new beginnings. After several days of reading blog posts and emails about New Year resolutions and words for the year, my thoughts were certainly considering all things new.
Isn’t it wonderful to have a fresh start? Why can’t we do that every day, all year long? Every January, I find myself more energized and committed to my goals and dreams, yet from past experiences (years upon years), I’m pretty sure I will experience fatigue and begin to prune my high expectations. Or at least forget my word of the year (which I have yet to discover). Life will interfere, changes will happen, and by the end of the year, those beginning plans will have fallen by the wayside or will have been altered so much they barely resemble original thoughts.
That’s ok, though, really. We cannot foresee the twists and turns of life, so wisdom would dictate that we make adjustments and refine our goals, dreams, plans.
Fresh resolutions every morning would be much more manageable.
Write. Read. Learn. Love. Do.
A basic plan, a few words, doable. Perhaps too broad, but easy to adjust each day. And the perfect-for-me way to enjoy new mornings every day as the sun rises.
The original fresh start and new beginnings?
“The faithful love of the LORD never ends! His mercies never cease. Great is his faithfulness; his mercies begin afresh each morning.” Lamentations 3:22-23 (NLT)
and
“Then He who sat on the throne said, ‘Behold, I make all things new.’ And He said to me, ‘Write, for these words are true and faithful.’” Revelation 21:5 (NKJV)
Care to join me in a fresh new beginning each morning?
Karen Witemeyer penned similar well-crafted thoughts about new beginnings. You can find her at Inspired by Life and Fiction.
The snow that has fallen would easily reach the second step, but diligent shoveling makes finding the welcome mat possible!
The welcome mat is out. Snow covered. But out.
Bundle up, jump in the one-horse open sleigh, and drive over the river and through the woods to Nana’s house. I mean Nana and Papa’s RV.
First, we’ll visit and catch-up. Of course, in our tiny space, this may require sitting in shifts or booting a cat off the chair. Speaking of cats, the floating fur is free.
For the exercise portion of our gathering, shall we shovel some snow? As it seems to fall continuously, there are a couple of acres ready for your attention. We’ll add in a bit of slip-sliding our way up the hill to the irrigation ditch, view the wildlife, and sled back down into the pasture.
To conclude our fun times together, toasty hot tea or coffee and perhaps a snack or two shall be served.
As we wave you out of sight, know our hearts and RV are warmer and happier. Thanks for stopping by. Hope to see you again soon.
Just aim for the welcome mat.
The Christmas tree that shall stand in place until probably March – or until the snow melts enough to get to the base. It’s still beautiful, so I shall enjoy it until then!
I so love Paris! I thought it would be fun to read (and see) about our stay in the City of Light back in 2009. Bienvenue!
Bumper to bumper cars
That’s it. As far as the eye can see, cars sticking bumper to bumper. I am SO happy to not have a car while living in Paris. The Metro is just perfect, thank you. Or my own 2 feet.
I am fascinated with drivers in Paris…it’s amazing how little damage actually occurs as people get from A to Z in as little time, distance, and space as possible.
Some observations about parking in Paris, just in case you want to drive and park while here:
No limit except vertical walls
Motorcycles, scooters, bicycles…pretty much can park anywhere. They are supposed to follow normal driving rules, but motorcycles have a secret lane between the outside 2 driving lanes, and both motorcycles and bicycles will pass stopped vehicles and get in front of them to get away first when the light turns green. Or if there are no pedestrians…
Optional parking on top of cones
Your choice – between or on top of cones.
Space between vehicles is negligible
Bonus points are awarded for vehicles with minimal space between bumpers.
Accidents WILL happen.
Expect some slight scratches or bruises
Clever drivers will gently ease into tiny parking spots, avoiding major warping and scrapes on bumpers and fenders.
And my personal favorite trick for in city driving ~
Always carry duct tape.
It’s true. Duct tape can fix anything.
Despite these captivating photos, drivers in Paris really are amazing. There are few accidents, pedestrians remain unharmed, vehicles stay on the road, and traffic flows in seemingly flawless pathways. Hats off to the competent drivers!
How about you? Where is your favorite destination? How are the drivers? We’d love to hear!
Two fresh pine trees outside, one planted and one cut, both decorated with white lights and silver stars and well watered. One potted artificial tree with blue lights next to the door. That doesn’t cut it for me, the lover of all things Christmas tree. The inside of the RV was too bare.
But with 2 kitties, lack of floor space, and no extra counter space, what is one to do?
Get a tree anyway.
Welcome little plastic tree, pre-wired and covered with plastic ornaments. Thank you for lighting up our indoor Christmas space. I know the kitties can’t hurt you, though they try, and you can’t (shouldn’t?) break.
So again, welcome. How lovely are your tiny little fake branches and your cheerful glow!
3 trees – tiny in front, tall in the middle, and blue next to the door.
Outdoor Tree Update: The Christmas tree down count is 3 wind events, which equals 3 pick-up-the-tree-and-replace-the-stars outings.
How about you? How many trees do you have? Do you have to pet-proof your Christmas decor? I’d love to hear I am not alone!
There I was. Putzing around while my honey worked up a sweat digging out a fresh little Christmas tree. I couldn’t really help him, one shovel and all.
In our area, we can purchase a tree permit from the forest service and dig or cut a tree up to 15 feet tall. As long as we follow the rules of where and where not, we get to choose whichever tree we love!
The first tree ‘we’ loved was a beauty! Between 5-6 feet tall, symmetrical, gorgeous. Plans were changed and we decided to dig up this pretty baby (by we, I mean he) and immediately plant it in the pasture before the ground froze.
Uhm. 5-6 foot evergreen trees do not come with short and easy-to-remove-from-the-dirt roots. After probably 25 minutes of heavy duty grunt work, we told the tree we love you and grow well and strong and shoveled all the dirt back and tamped it down. The tree would not budge. It loved where it lived.
The results from this attempt made us decide to dig up a smaller tree. MUCH smaller.
We found a lovely, adorable little tree stuck on the side of a hill. It called out to us – “Take me home!”
So my honey started digging. We had expectations for a shorter dig time. This prediction did not account for the rock. We also planned on potting this cutie and enjoying it inside the RV and planting it later in the spring.
Except for the rock. And the huge curvy taproot wrapped around the rock that would have forced us to use a pot the size of a small car in order to cover it with soil. That sort of container does not fit in the RV.
Plan C. Bag up the cute tree which still required 15 or so minutes for extraction, and immediately introduce it to the new home in the pasture.
Our second tree, originally planned as a larger cut tree, then switched to “Let’s dig out 2 trees,” was then maneuvered back into the original plan after the digging marathons. A stately and fragrant tree became our cut tree.
One can never tell what is lurking below the surface. Rocks, roots, acres of soil – depth of stability, secure anchorage, ablility to withstand hurricane force winds or mountains of heavy snow. Baby trees face all sorts of dangerous conditions out in the wild. And each one causes the tree to grow stronger and more resilient, develop even deeper roots, and hang on tight.
I should have taken a picture of that root wrapped rock. As a reminder. But the mushrooms were calling and I didn’t realize the significance of the rock. It’s like that sometimes. Upon later reflection, insights swivel my viewfinder to see what’s truly important.
Sometimes I feel like a baby tree, stuff coming at me from all directions. I bend, shudder, and quake, tossed like a dandelion puff on the wind. But as long as my heart roots are wrapped around the Rock, I am safe and can rest in His care and protection. I can continue to grow and become stronger as I sink my roots deep and wrap them ever tighter around my source of strength.
The Rock.
“Let your roots grow down into him, and let your lives be built on him. Then your faith will grow strong in the truth you were taught, and you will overflow with thankfulness.”
I dabbled a bit at the perfume counters and my grandmas’ display of pretty bottles for years. But once I found my lifetime signature fragrance, that was it. Committed. Loyal. Done searching.
Oh, I may have stopped to smell other roses along the way, but this was MY scent.
Tresor. In French, a treasure. For me, my favorite perfume.
This personality trait, for I have realized that’s what it is, does not only apply to Lancôme.
When my honey and I got engaged, I loved my ring. As we married, I gained another simple gold band. At ten years in, he bought me a 10-tiny-diamond band. At 20 years, we went hunting together. The sales lady wanted me to ‘trade-up’ for a larger diamond. How about NO? I am sentimental about my rings and each one is precious. I don’t care about the size. I care about the commitment and memories and love they symbolize. I have the same rings without traded-up stones. Because they are MY rings from MY love.
Speaking of love, sure I dabbled a bit here and there. Window shopping, as it were. Tried on a few different sorts, but once I found my man, that was it. Best friends, partners, lovers, co-adventurers. Life-ers. Thirty-one plus years. He’s worth it. Kevin and Angie. We go together.
Coffee? Same goes. You may call me a coffee snob, but I do enjoy Starbucks. We’ve had a rocky relationship, this company and this coffee drinker, and I do whine about their ridiculous prices and return bad drinks for correctly prepared ones. But that’s what partners in relationships do, right? We work on fixing things and put up with the negatives.
Friends. Ditto. I have the same friends from high school and college. I see some more than others, but it’s always the same. We are glad to visit, hang-out, share meals, giggle, and shop – whenever we meet face to face. I’m not going to trade them for a newer model just because we more mature friends have a few bumps, bruises, and sags. That doesn’t mean that I don’t want to make new friends. I will add them to my collection.
Jesus. Once I decided He’s the One, I committed. It’s a long-term relationship, to eternity and beyond! Don’t need to window shop anymore. Just work on getting to know each other and enjoy the relationship and fellowship along the way. Hang out. Go on adventures. Chill and celebrate. Just like a marriage.
Family, cars, pets, clothes, hobbies, . . . Until we wear out and are reduced to rags or the engine burns up or the kitties get too old or my fingers get arthritis. Mine. Don’t worry. I’ll share.
I’m that kind of girl. Once I make a choice, I stick to it.
My honey and I surveying our new home. LOL. LOVE old wood. Photo by Angie Quantrell 2016
Love, Laughter, and Life 