Walking the Glen

Another Amazing day discovering beauty in the back yard. Well, almost.  Watkins Glen State Park is less than half an hour away.

Advertisements

Around Town in Roskilde

Lovin these brass candle holders.  Oh dear.  Here we go again.

This could be done with an old picture frame and wallpaper and little hooks.  I think it’s to hang your necklaces on.  Love it!  Will try to make my own for sure!

Another “must try” idea: wallpapered drawers and darling knobs.  Oh yeah.

Here I go again, looking like a dork, taking pictures because the shops are …well, just wonderful!

Oh come on!  I could wear this…somewhere!!

Found a little bunny I couldn’t live without.

And a few plates from England.

Trim my wick and put me OUT! Yeah! Love that flea market.

Never know what to expect around here.

Got married up there nearly a year ago!

Starting them young.  Busy Saturday in Roskilde.  Hej Hej !! (That’s pronounced Hi Hi and it means Goodbye! LOL)

Fairy Tales in Real Life

Arriving at our hotel after a seven hour flight across the Atlantic, a forty-five minute cab drive from Copenhagen (one that I am convinced is a misguided placement of our lives in the hands of a maniac, but I am too tired to care), I stand sleepily before the front desk clerk wondering if we have a room waiting, or if we will have to wait for a room.  It is only 8:45 in the morning after all.  But for me, it is closer to 3 AM.  We are given a key, and my heart sinks a little.  It’s not the one they’ve been putting us in.  It’s not “our room”, the one with the claw foot bathtub.  I figure they forgot about us.  It has been six months since we’ve been here, and this guy at the desk was a new face.  We toppled two weeks worth of luggage out of the elevator on the third floor and made our way to the end of the hall.  As I placed the key in, I started to get excited.  This was in the same location as our favorite room on the second floor.  Maybe it was the same kind of room!  But when the door opened, it was immediately evident this was not our old room.  No, this room had a living room, a dining table, a huge bathroom with a claw foot tub, a giant candelabra, an extra bathroom for the toilet, a bedroom with a king sized bed, an armoire or two, and two televisions!  Tired as I was, I started jumping up and down and squealing. 

“What is going on? Did they make a mistake? This is amazing!”   Just as I was digging for my camera, the guy from downstairs was at the door with an ironing board.

“This room is beautiful!” I told him. “Are you sure it is ours?”

He smiled and explained that it is the HC Anderson room.  Since Hans Christian Anderson used to stay here, this room is dedicated to him.  I was speechless.  I had intended to use this trip for my writing.  I was looking forward to being stuck in a hotel room with few distractions.  Now I was awe struck.  What mysterious wind of grace, what magical dust has lighted upon me that I would receive such favor?   So thick that I feel surrounded by the company of angels and writers I know so little about.  I find a book in one of the many cabinets here.  It is mostly in Danish, but I stumble upon a little bit of English writing only to discover it is a letter written to Mr. Anderson from Charles Dickens extending an invite to spend the summer with him in Kent.  Dickens also writes:

I am very much interested in what you tell me of your new Novel, and you may be very sure that it will have no more attentive and earnest reader than it will find in me. I am impatient for it’s publication.

 I skim these pages for more words in English.  I feel like the room has evaporated and all there is in the world are these snippets of letters exchanged by authors from another time, another dimension.  Even now I cannot give this poor body rest.  No matter that it has traveled half way across the world in twelve hours.  No mind the bloodshot eyes, or the bobbing head.  I simply must pen something of this very moment.  The room is too thick with chuckling ghosts for me to retire.

Jackpot!

With the mega millions up to 540 million dollars, I find myself staggering and shaking my head at the prospect of it.  Talk about exceedingly abundantly above all that I could ask or think!  I certainly have not thought in terms that large.  With a take home of around 250 million, I still can’t really conceive what that means.  Of course I already have my plans of what to do for my family and friends, and I have a few ideas for business ventures I’ve always wanted to do: a clothing line, a spa, a gym.  But all in all, I think I would live modestly and shop a lot.  Perhaps opening a thrift store or several to arrange all of my treasures; vintage linens, distressed furniture, fancy antique mirrors, and fifties dishes; little figurines and funky junk.

I know, some would say, with that kind of money, you can buy the finest new housewares the world has to offer.  But some things just aren’t as sweet new.  So with crazy insane wealth, I will be able to do unbridled shopping and continue doing what I love: seeking out unique bargains from yesteryear.  Oh there will be plenty of places to keep my finds.  The spa will need to be furnished, as will my home, and if I buy a guesthouse for tourists to stay while they shop on Thrift Lane, I can fill it with antique beds, dressers, and benches.  And Main Street can have shop after shop of second-hand finds, vintage goodies, and Amish crafts.  After all, we will be in Amish country.

Recently I went to Tennessee to the Worlds Longest Yard Sale on Route 127. From Michigan to Alabama this weeklong event is a thrifter’s dream.  And now that I have been inspired, I can see an entire town devoted to thrift stores, antiques, and old treasures.  The businesses would pop up one after another all complimenting each other the way the wineries do.

People will come from all over to lodge in wine country, and shop second-hand, hitting the wineries and cafés for lunch, and in the shops, they will be served tea and offered a fun fancy hat to wear while they browse until dinner, when they can go over to the lake and enjoy the sunset on the porch of a seafood restaurant with an ice-cold beer. 

Yes.  Dreams are sweet, and dreaming is good.  And hey, you never know.

Farewell to Fairport

A funny thing happened as I walked into downtown Fairport, with spring showing off all around me.  I saw the homes.  Not for the first time, but more for the last. We are leaving this town soon, to move to the country an hour or so away. And as I passed, I remembered why I liked Fairport so much to begin with.  The homes are darling. And suddenly I realized they are worthy of my camera as much as any of the old homes in Denmark. We have plent of charm and charecter right here in America. 

I just may have to plant some of these at the new place. Gorgeous!

Love the Italian Flag

Don’t you just want to sit in that chair and sip some iced tea?

Mother Nature is busy painting the town red! 

I love the color of this old barn! I’m afraid it may be too late for the repair job though. 

After a four mile walk, this bike was looking mighty tempting!

Pondering the Beautiful

In a few weeks, we’ll be Denmark bound again.  I just spent some time being inspired by a blog http://shabbychicgirls.blogspot.it/ ————————–It got me wanting to share some of my favorites.  Pictures can be like travel, without the eight hour plane ride and airport security.  Hope you find some inspiration here. 

When you live in a charming little town as old as Roskilde, with cobblestone streets and Danes on foot or pedaling wherever they go,  you have reason to do your windows up  right. 

And Copenhagen..well we simply MUST….