Tiny bubbles, pretty palettes, and organic mouth-blown shapes from a second-generation Belgian glasshouse. There will be fresh flowers. There will be candlelight. There will be champagne towers. Just like we like it.
Our love affair with the handwritten note is both long standing and well documented, eternal and boundless. In our humble opinion, there is no better way to connect (or re-connect) with yourself or your heart-people, to share and magnify gratitude, to show love, or to make space for contemplative moments in your own day than sitting down to write a note. The only thing that *might* be better is receiving a handwritten note your own self!
The early darkness. The unexpected flurries. The stunning architecture of strength revealed when summer's trees finally slip out of their party clothes and let their guards down. As the season winds down to its deepest primal essences (much like the rich, hearty broths we try and keep bubbling on the stove), so do we.
Excuse us if it seems like perhaps we are just using the opportunity of "building a beautiful library of fresh and timeless tales for little ones" as a pure excuse to go back through our marvelous old favorite books and relive the wonder of marvelous world-discovery, but , well, here we are.
A dear friend once told us that the time to prune is when the shears are in your hand. A time for everything and everything in its time. We have often used this piece of gentle advice as a salve for the times when we perhaps didn't deadhead as much as we should or we neglected to cut back the azaleas three years in a row. The time to do it? When the shears are in your hand? That's the right time