Happy New Year!

This lovely poem was translated and sent to me by a reader, Christa Weitbrecht. She gave me permission to share it with you all, as we enter a bright new year.

Recipe for a Happy New Year
by Katharina Elisabeth Goethe
(Mother of Johann Wolfgang von Goethe)

Take twelve months;
Clean them thoroughly from bitterness, avarice, pedantery, and fear,
Cut each month into thirty or thirty-one equal parts,
So that this stock will last for a whole year.

Each part will be prepared separately
And arranged with one part of working and two parts of cheerfulness and good humour,
Then three big spoons heaped with optimism are added ,
As well as one small spoon of tolerance,
One grain of irony and a pinch of tactfulness.
Finally everything will be flavoured abundantly with lots of love.

It is recommended to adorn this dinner
with small bouquets of attentiveness
and serve it daily with serenity
and a cup of good revitalizing tea.

Thank you so much, Christa, and I raise my cup of good revitalizing tea to you all to wish you a wonderful and productive 2012!

(The clock photo was taken in the Waltham, MA clockworks museum.)

Merry Christmas....

...from our Home to yours!

Our Christmas may necessarily come sooner than yours, though, as Gus began tearing the paper off the packages under the tree last night. He may have decided that, as none are marked as his, he will just claim them all! His isn't there yet, because he can always sniff it out and refuses to wait until a certain day or hour to claim it. Perhaps he was looking for it.

May your Christmas be merry and bright. And may you have time to sit and sip whatever it is you like to sip, and to enjoy the quiet wonder of the season.

'Slower than molasses in winter....'

(Now that I am a grandmother myself, I guess I feel quite comfortable using those old sayings I remember my grandmother using!)
Anyway, that is how this tapestry is going... slowly, slowly; like molasses in winter.


It feels quite right for me to be weaving 'mother and child' during this celebration season.The actual tapestry is a bit different than this photo of the maquette, but close enough that you can tell where I am. Still not too far along, I am about 3-4 inches up the tapestry body. I'm weaving fabric, in several meanings of the term. I always like weaving a tapestry of 'fabric.' It seems somehow fitting. Fabric about fabric.


This is the geranium that refused to bloom all summer long on my porch. Now that it is inside, it is blooming a bouquet all the time! It is in a south window, with bright light filtered through the lace curtain, near the warm radiator, and in the room with a humidifier running all the time (for my guitar), so no wonder it's happy! A bit of bright winter cheer each morning. I wish the same for you... bright winter cheer each day!

A slice of my life....

Wake up, feet!

It snowed last night. Not much snow... maybe just sno... or even sn....
(Hey, this is Colorado. We only have one word for the white stuff; and it's either worth getting out the skis and snowshoes for, or it's not. Today's is not.)

Books, camera, music stand. Must be where I live!

Where I meet friends, drink coffee, and occasionally shop.

Eye spy...

Gus, Santa's little helper....

Actually, he usually ends up climbing the tree, and knocking the ornaments off. He is probably picking his victims as he sits demurely looking at it. "Ah, just wait until they leave the room. That antique glass ball is history!"

Fast away the old year passes....

Here it is December already. All the things I wanted to do in the 365 days, 52 weeks, and 12 long months of 2011 now must be compressed into the few days left, if they are to be accomplishments of this year.

Sigh. Oh the novels that have gone unwritten, the tapestries unwoven, the canvas unpainted, the days unsaved. But wait, I have yet three and a half weeks in which to still save the day!


This is the thing about December: it is not enough to celebrate the major holiday of the year, to shop and ship and bake and decorate. We also must deal with the waning year and all the promises to ourselves that are yet unkept. And we must still meet the daily requirements of work and home and of keeping ourselves and our loved ones warmed, inside and out. Oh, December, do you not demand too much of me? I mull over the month as I mull a cup of hot cider. I will drink both down with as much enjoyment as I can muster.

Even the darkest of Decembers have beauty to notice and savor. Even the most overloaded days have a moment or two to 'save the day,' for yourself or for someone who needs it even more. And soon I will sit and revel over the accomplishments I have made in this past year. But not yet. I'm thinking I still have a bit of time to add to that list first....