Sunshine . . . On My Molder . . . Makes Me Happy

With apologies to the late John Denver,
and also with apologies to That Old House.

She isn't really moldering away.  Much.  I don't think . . . .

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But it was a brilliantly sunny morning this sparkling Wednesday,

and I thought I'd show you how winter sunshine peeks in,

and what it reveals!

 Our house faces East, so it's a challenge for the sun to slide across the covered front porch and --

 in through the front door sidelights and parlor windows.

But it manages to do so, and it climbs a bit of the front stairs.

 That Old House asks that you not gossip about the bottom of her newel post being a bit cracked.

She says if you were 180 years old, you'd have a few cracks yourself.   Well, she's right about that.

The front windows let in a bit of low angled sun that slants along the fireplace.

And highlights all the old lumps and bumps under the 3-year old paint.

 I'm afraid I like the old lumps and bumps, being the owner of a few of them myself.

Ladies, we all know that makeup can only do so much!

A sliver of sun brings out the gold in the wide pine floors in the parlor.

 And light from the front door illuminates the front hall where it meets the dining room.

Wood floors that match?  Oh my, wouldn't that be novel?

We have at least 6 different types of wood floors here, in random juxtapositions.  Time capsules at our feet.

In the sunroom, which earns its moniker in the mornings,

there is no covered porch blocking the rays, and warm bright light pours in.

 I think the ivy needs water, don't you?  If I had fed my kids the way I feed my houseplants, I'd have been in jail.

 I think the ivy could use a dusting.  Oh my, what a surprise!

Ivy doesn't have naturally fuzzy leaves, does it?  Are you sure?

I love pots of ivy, with their gracefully wandering stems.

A Christmas cactus, still blooming.

 Still expecting!  Quintuplets by the look of things.

And tucked along the side, by the door,

where the sun is not reaching him, dog Dion waits for a walk.

 He's just grabbing a cat nap.  He stayed up late last night to see who won Westminster.

We cheered on the Scottish Deerhound; what a magnificent dog,

and I do love it when the unexpected entry wins the whole enchilada.

But seriously, folks -- that Pekingese.

Are we sure that's really a dog, or something off a Mother Ship?

I don't trust them; I think their ultimate goal is world domination.

Enjoy your Wednesday!  -- Cass

And because it's Wednesday, why not click over to 

Susan's blog -- A Southern Daydreamer -- for

Outdoor Wednesday.

 Click here.

You'll be glad you did -- especially to see bare earth and flowers on Susan's own blog!

Amazing.

Oh, Shiny Things!

My camera is still A.W.O.L.

Luckily Howard has a camera, and although it is big and scary,
and weighs a ton, this morning he kindly showed me how to use it . . . .

You, my blogger friends, are guinea pigs for my first foray

into picture taking using a big-boy camera.  I apologize in advance!  This could get ugly.

Do not sue me for any retinal damage; you have been warned.

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 (Fanfare and flourish here.)

I hereby declare this a day for Pretty Things.

Among the prettiest: those roses Howard sent me for Valentine's Day.

They are the most gorgeous true red, and not fully opened yet so they'll last a good many days.

How beautiful; nothing we fashion can touch Nature's style.

But we'll give it a shot.

Let's move those roses out of the kitchen -- we'll lop off their skinny legs and plop them

into a favorite rose bowl -- and then we'll decide what to do with them.

  Out of the kitchen you go!

 As long as today is Pretty Things Day. . .

what could be prettier than things that cost only a dollar?

 

 I always think that being cheap inexpensive just makes something more attractive.

Ladies, do not tell this to my husband.  Or yours.

If there weren't already a Dollar Tree around the corner from That Old House, I'd have to invent one.

Look at what hopped into my cart on my last visit a few weeks ago:

Mirror-and-ruby-glass votive holders.

I mean, really!

Eureka!

Red and shiny.

I wanted to take their glamour shots last night, in the dark,

but I didn't know how to use the camera then.

(Yes, I hear the wise cracks:  "And you still don't!"

Which of course is perfectly true.)

Now we know that red Valentine's roses pair perfectly with shiny candleholders from Dollar Tree.

But we knew that all along, now, didn't we?

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And as a good deli man in New York City might say: "And vat else?"

Why, tea!

Or coffee, in this case.  Ssshhh, don't tell.

It's Tuesday, and tea parties have cropped up in blogger land like dandelions in our spring lawn.

Ah . . . now this is bliss.

 A pot of good black coffee, some pretty shiny things, several new decorating books
I treated myself to before Christmas, and the time to enjoy it all

and let the tension headaches of the past two weeks fade away.

 That's a vintage Wedgwood Patrician mold cup and saucer, in the Bognor design.
Embossed and hand painted.

 Howard's Mom gave me the white coffee pot.
And you know where the votive holder came from!

 Books to dream over, and the pillow my sister Peg made for me last winter.  Perfect.

I'll share the bliss with the Snowman family inhabiting the mantel.

I like to hold over holiday reds and snowmen until the end of February.

 They do brighten bleak winter days!

 And the snowmen just look so darn silly that I can't resist them.

I'll be back.  After I have my coffee.

I'm afraid I've only set out a cup for one today.

 Go get your own!  -- Cass

My friend Tam at The Gypsy's Corner hosts Three Or More Tuesday.   Click here to visit.  
I've got more than 3 Dollar Tree votives to contribute.  But you will ADORE what Tam is sharing!

Marty at A Stroll Through Life hosts Tabletop Tuesday.    Visit Marty here!
I am sure you will find gorgeous tabletops to swoon for!  And Marty is sponsoring a giveaway and I won't tell you what it is but it involves BLUE AND WHITE.  On second thought, don't go there . . . too much competition!  :-)

Linda at Coastal Charm hosts Nifty Thrifty Tuesday  Check it out here!
There is nothing like Thrifty to fire me up!  And Linda's got some giveaway teases for you, too.

And dear Lady Katherine and her Tea Time Tuesday party!  Click here to visit this charming lady.   She's got a most amazing Valentine's tea set in a gazebo, and she herself looks all windblown and rather "come hither" -- so go thither and see for yourself!

It's Monday, and I'm Back

It is Monday, Valentine's Day, and I am back to blogging . . . 
but my camera is missing.

This is when I regret not learning how to use Howard's digital SLR.

I found an adorable, funny and romantic Valentine's card this morning, placed by my husband in a spot he knew I would not miss -- the bathroom vanity.  Alongside, a tiny wrapped box of sugar-free chocolates.  I'll share them with him tonight.  He will get one.  I will get two.  After all, I'm the girl.

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 Today is a day for Red.

Mr. Snowman seems to be offering me his heart.

What a sweetie.

If I could find my danged camera, I could show you the Snow Family that has taken up residence

on the fireplace mantel in the parlor.  They are so happily goofy in that serious room.

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Now that life is getting back to normal here, it's time I tackled long-put-off projects.

This is a major red project:  new draperies in the dining room.

 I've got the bolt of fabric.

 The bolt spent the holidays leaning up in the corner of the dining room.

I wonder what our guests thought of that?

Next time we have people come to dinner, I'd like the fabric to be hanging from the rods instead.

I offered my daughter Anne and her roommate the 2-year old gold draperies hanging there now,

for their nekkid-ish living room windows.  That's a good 18-yards of fabric.

If she and Gennie don't want it, it might become dining chair seat covers.

Waste not, want not.

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There was just a knock on our sunroom door.

A dozen Valentine's red roses!

Oh Howard, you romantic fool.

I may actually cook dinner for you tonight.

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It is still distinctly winter around here.  Despite today's mild mid-50s temperatures,

the snow and ice remain, with just glimpses of muddy grass near the edge of the driveway.

Much to Dion's delight.

 I'm going to focus my energy and time now on daughter Alida's upcoming June wedding,

and on tackling myriad neglected projects and chores here at That Old House.

She is beginning to complain of neglect, my house, and she can be one cranky old bat.

And while winter does have its majesty and pure beauty, and I don't want to rush through time,

 I'm looking forward to April and May, when these reds will be the ones we celebrate:

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I want to thank the many dear people who wrote,

in comments and privately, after my post of February 2.

Your kindness and sympathy following the loss of our dear Pop was priceless and much treasured.

Our family gathered in force, right down to the tiniest ones -- 4 month old twins Calvin and Luke,

the newest of Dad's 9 great-grandchildren -- to celebrate two rich and much-blessed lives -- my father's and my mother's.

Together we remembered, laughed, wept, hugged, ate, laughed again, ate some more,

talked endlessly, and took strength from one another . . . 

realizing how very lucky we are to have had them, and to have each other still.

Good lives, well lived.

And much missed.

May 2009, Anne and her Pop-Pop, at her college graduation dinner.

Alida and her Pop-Pop, visiting, 2009.

Now . . . I really do have to find my camera.
I want some pictures of those beautiful roses!  My best wishes to you all -- Cass

Well Done, Thou Good And Faithful Servant

My beloved father slipped away from us early this morning,
February 2nd, to join my mother,
and to rest from his long and faithful service here on earth.

We are still stunned; neither his doctors nor his family expected such a quick decline when he was taken to the hospital on Sunday for what we thought would be another of his fix-and-get-better trips.  But Pop had other plans.

Herbert Lindtveit -- May 12, 1920 -- February 2, 2011

These last 3-1/2 years, with him living just minutes from us, have been a gift to me.  I became closer to Pop than ever before and we shared some wonderful, and some difficult, conversations and experiences.
I got to know him very well, on a deeper level than before.

I am grateful for that.  He was a very important part of our lives.

I will miss him, a lot.

A creative, funny, sweet, patient, talented, kind and loving father, we never heard a mean or crude word from him, never an angry scold -- even when one of us surely deserved it.

He taught us to make mistakes, to sin boldly (as Martin Luther said), because that's how you learn, and that the way to begin any project, no matter how big, was by just doing it -- taking that first step.  If it turned out to be the wrong step -- learn from it, be proud you took the chance, and keep going.

He loved kids, and kids loved him -- perhaps because his own childhood was very much alive and kicking right under the surface of his grownup skin.   And if there was a baby in the room, you could be sure that within minutes, it would be Pop who would be holding that little one in his arms.

If today's young Dads think it's a new thing to share in baby care, and diaper and feed and bathe their kids, they are mistaken; our Dad was doing that more than 60 years ago.
 

Our girls believed their Pop-Pop could make or fix anything.  Because he could. As each of his four kids bought their first houses -- those houses that needed pretty much everything fixed -- Pop was there to lend his tools, his hands, his encyclopedic knowledge.  I know we all are wondering  who we're going to ask now, when the heating system makes that funky noise or the bathroom window won't stop rattling or the roof leaks or we hear a mouse in the wall . . . . "Let's ask Pop," isn't an option now.

As  my brothers said today, "We never considered a world without Pop."

I still can't wrap my mind around that fact.  I know it in my head, but not yet in my heart.

I don't know what eternity is like, but I know what I like to believe -- that last January my Mom found it full of wonderful yarn, and that after outfitting Saint Peter and our Saviour with appropriate fisherman knits, she piled up a goodly stack of warm and practical sweaters for my Dad.  "Yes," said my sister Peggy, "but she's also asking him why he didn't call when he knew he was going to be late."

Thanks, Kirby, for the picture of Pop in the Tina.  Women loved him; fish feared him!

As for Dad, there will be a good boat, endless clear warm days, a high tide, and massive schools of fish just waiting to be caught.  And maybe a really good apple pie, and a couple of donuts to fill in the empty spots.

Strawberry Shortcake would be welcome, too.

My phone conversations with my father these past few years usually ended the same way:
(After a brief silence)
Me:  Well, that's all I've got.
Him:  Me too!
Me:  I love you, Dad.
Him:  I love you too, honey.
And I would hear the catch in his voice.

I do indeed love you, Dad, and I'm going to miss you like crazy.  -- Cass