Ursa Minor

Language is a cracked kettle on which we beat out tunes for bears to dance to, while all the time we long to move the stars to pity--Flaubert

Dreamy photo found here.

Isn't it though? Gustav's quote winked at me in the latest Poets & Writers.

Velvet + Lace

Put on a dress. The weekend is nigh.

And why not, anyway?

Again, gorgeous photography by Nicole Trundle, unearthed here.

Feast

'Tis the Season.

I thought about making this during my bicycle ride home from work yesterday afternoon...

Feast is a gorgeous, celebratory banner in red gingham. Bold red velvet block letters, chocolate-colored vintage ribbon and rich gold rick-rack make it fit for the season, but it's at home in your most delicious room any time of year.

Feast isn't just about food, it's about thoroughly enjoying anything that is well and lovingly made. BON APPETIT!

Now in the shop!

This is just to say

Swoony photography by Nicole Trundle, found here.

I wanted to share my dinner, really I did.

White acorn squash, which yielded pleasingly to my knife, allowing me to scoop its seeds in an unbaked state. Ahem, where was I? White acorn squash, baked with heaps of butter, salt and cinnamon, whole garlic cloves tucked in its belly. Stuffed with wheat berries, pomegranate seeds and beets, rubies and garnets. Broccoli rabe, more garlic. Smoked Gouda, 1/3 of the wheel. And some white beans cooked in bay leaves with red chilli flakes, onions and others. But alas, I have eaten the plums that were in the icebox. Too hungry to pause for photos, too sated to post a proper recipe. Just follow your heart when it comes to squash. You can't miss.

What is more, you can trot right over to This American Life and listen to this episode about plums and iceboxes.

Moveable Type

Please behold this antique lexical treasure. It stuns me. It's an original printer's set, from the days before these sort of blocks would be put into a press, the age of hand-stamping. It lives in a gorgeous ancient handmade box.

Upper and lowercase letters. The elegant ampersand, a politely pointing hand, and every number you fancy.

I admire its sturdiness and function, those dear tapering symbols, that scratched honey wood. What tender letters one could stamp with this old thing! And what a beautiful gift it would make.

I myself have a dear set of stamps for love letters that Crystal, the prettiest proprietress in all of the wild west, found for me at Bon. But you, cherished friend, I urge you onward. Words will never go out of style.

Cake or Death

Cake or Death! Made for my favorite cabbage, Lizzy Savage. (Do check out her insanely gorgeous shop of fascinators and wedding prizes.)

A little bit Marie Antoinette extravagance, a little bit jailhouse rock. Now available for custom order in the shop!

Your little home, deep in the desert

Having a very special guest in town last weekend made me appreciate my desert home even more.
Especially in the dead-heat of summer, and in my impatience for a solid season of scarf & tights weather, I occasionally find myself longing for the ecosystem where I grew up: moss, complicated fog patterns, black and fertile soil, redwoods festooned in ferns and mushrooms and orange butterflies.

It's not that I love the enchanted forests of my ancestral home any less, but having Maggie in town gave me a chance to show off the Sonoran Desert's just-before-sunset chiaroscuro and purple mountains and the quirky relationships that Tucson residents forge with nature. [See my neighbors' friendly prickly pears].

And I do love it so, this most biodiverse of the earth's deserts.
Maggie squawked when she saw her very first purple prickly pear.

And made the funky little details of our gingerbread cottage fall in love with her.

The wild west.

Secret gardens, surprisingly lush. Maggie was so taken with the adorable teddy bear cholla. Thank you dear desert!
You are an excellent host.

And thank you dear Maggie!

You are the most gracious of guests and our heartstrings play sad, longing music now that you have returned to San Francisco.

All pictures by head photographer Maggie, taken on several rollicking escapades at my humble home, Saguaro West and the Tucson Botanical Gardens.