Provincetown... Race Point Beach... January 2, 2012
Is there anything a gal loves more than handsome company for New Years Eve? We headed off to P.Town (we being Rita Rose, Dino and I) for a few days with John in his remarkable house. The two pugs loved the beach. I loved the white sofa that sits just under the big side window at the far end of John’s dining room. I loved the bed on the second floor with its blue Kantha cover and I didn’t find the beach half bad either! We dined exceedingly well for three days. On New Years Eve, John and I went to three (count them!) parties. Each one a delicious experience and I don’t “do” parties easily. I looked at a small cottage for sale that would require deep pockets of bucks for its restoration. I toy always with a move to just such a cottage (totally restored, of course) with the dunes at my back and a small sliver of that blue water at my front. Dino insists that I buy the two of them a little “something,” but he doesn’t seem to be coming up with the down-payment!
This wonderful old block of ancient wood has been the support of many a fine meal at John’s. One hot summer evening, John’s friend Bill prepared a salmon for grilling and then like magic he fried up a black skillet of capers to toss over the salmon. I have watched John do wonders with the prep of an organic chicken on this fine block of a table. There have been glasses of wine poured while we all stand around and eat cheese and olives from dishes placed on its worn surface. I love this table! If I bought that cottage in P.Town, this table and I could become quite bonded!
The Ninth and Final Pajama Party!
This is it my darlings… our final pajama party. We have had a long and wonderful run with this event, and it is time to find another adventure. I have a plan that will treat all of you who have supported my little shop throughout the year. It is a doozie of a plan (no, I am not taking you all on a cruise nor are we heading off to Venice, and it isn’t even a fine meal out at some fancy dive). I will keep it secret while working out the pesky details. Trust that you shan’t wear your pajamas for the next caper!
Some Trees Just Know How to Dress Up!
Was it Thanksgiving that a woman wandered into one of those big box stores for that insane just-after-midnight-opening, packing her pepper spray? One does wonder what in the world she was thinking and why she or anyone else would camp out on the asphalt parking lot for such madness. While all that nonsense was going on, the date trees at China Ranch in Tecopa, California were wearing their best cotton shirts to keep the sun from scorching the tender dates. This will be my next wander west to suss out this date farm. My daughter, Andrea, sent me a one-pound bundle of dates from there, and I assure you those dates were the most delicious “date” I have had in years…and that includes both male and female!
Desert Spirits From Death Valley, California
It was my intention to go all Christmas with you and to feature all the gift items we are currently selling at 6 Birch Street. I had intended to show you the interior of the store all tarted up with bobbles and what-nots. What I can tell you is the store is stuffed with delicious goodies (even more delicious than those dates I spoke of moments ago). I can tell you also that the first Holiday Wander of this season was a terrific success. I can tell you that Rita Rose took over the cash register and ran the charges through with nary a mishap. That little pug vixen is all set for the rush of holiday shoppers! Dino has taken to the road again…he has a group of unsavory types, among them, a pit bull called Winky and a French poodle named Sassy. They like to spend the first week of December in Las Vegas, and when they head west, it is Winky who does most of the driving. I worry a whole lot less knowing Dino is in the back seat handing out the roast beef sandwiches packed just for the adventure.
Fifty Miles Into a Nevada Road Trip
Nine days and fifteen hundred miles of sagebrush whipping past my driver side window. Nevada has the most liberal speed limits of any state I know…but one must always slow down to capture the local flavor.
Highway 50...A Must For Anyone's Bucket List
For this bit of madness, I had books on tape and assorted CD’s of wild music to play. Outside my rental car were wide open spaces unlike anything we get to experience here in the East. If you haven’t traveled Highway 50 between Fernley, Nevada and Eureka, Nevada you just haven’t lived!
A Kind Warning Outside Austin, Nevada
The story goes that a local city council member lettered this for all of us who whip through Austin and in so doing miss all the local color.
Tuscarora, Nevada
One of the adventures on this nine-day caper was to attend a weekend writers workshop with Nancy McLelland at the Tuscarora Writers Workshop. What a place Tuscarora is with its twelve residents…mostly artists and writers. Once a thriving mining camp, it now offers just plain delicious photo opportunities wherever you aimed the Brownie Hawkeye!
Tuscarora Fence of Glass Bottle Necks
Talk about recycling! This fence was a gem, which made me wish for an acre or two for my very own bottle neck embellishment. The only bottleneck in my part of the world is on Route 128 during the morning commute.
Tuscorara Fence With Local Bones
Tuscarora Pottery School
This little gem of a place sits dead center in this community of wonderful artists. It is, I am told, about the finest pottery school around. If the studio work, kilns and books published by the directors are any example…I must agree!
From Tuscarora to Eureka, Nevada
Dry desert air can do wonders to a fine paint job. This was but one of the many trucks that begged to be photographed. Hell, this blog could go on for days with this sort of shot!
Austin, Nevada
What could be better than one lone tree along a side road embellished with character? Because Nevada is my tribe, I totally understand the need for this sort of thing and relish every trip I make when returning to my roots. Nothing and everything makes sense in Nevada!
A Favorite Grave Site in Eureka, Nevada
Just tell me you wouldn’t give the earth for this chain link and its forged iron tassel surrounding your own little plot of land. Victorian detail knocks me silly with wonder.
Angel With Finger Raised!
The above nonsense could go on forever but at the risk of losing you with this lengthy post, I will leave you here in Eureka. Trust me…this is not the end.
Lodgings and Red High Heels
Just when we thought September might be the “normal” month…I am off for a nine day adventure! You can be certain there will be tales to tell about this caper. Soon I will fly into Reno, Nevada, rent a car, see my wonderful Aunt Roma, who cared for my difficult, challenging and also wonderful mother at the end of her days. I more than owe Roma for that one! Then I will head out Highway 50 (considered “America’s Loneliest Road” by Life magazine years ago) for what promises to be quite a road trip! My end destination…once I have traveled through two small towns and gone nearly 300 miles…is Eureka, Nevada, a town established in its boom years of 1870-85 where all the gold, silver, and lead was dug out of Eureka’s limestone from the Ruby Hill shafts just outside of town. I am not opening up a Joanne Rossman shop on Eureka’s main street…I am there to visit my daughter, Andrea, and to take a weekend writers retreat with Nancy McLelland, who runs the Tuscarora Writers Retreats. I can barely wait! I nicked this divine shot of a well used workman’s trailer off Nancy’s website and I thank her for that. Stay tuned Loves….for what promises to be high desert adventures!
Decoupage Dreams in il Buco's Wine Cellar
Have I told you about the evenings spent after days at the Javits? Of course I have! I must have mentioned a time or two about the dinners out, right? Well, this was a magical night hosted by John Derian at Il Buco. Sadly, the photograph is a tad dark but the food was divine, the company splendid…I had as my main course Pappardelle, which is a dish of fresh ribbon pasta, beef cheek sugo (when was the last time you had beef cheek?!), mint, and ricotta salata. It was truly worth the risk…beef cheek is not something I would tend to order. There were assorted plates to start the adventure and a light red wine to sip while surrounded by cellar walls of old brick holding endless bottles of wine…all of it lit by candlelight. HEAVEN!
The Magical Host...John Derian
It seems a fine time to chat about the goods ordered. First of all, if you have never been to the Javits Center, you have missed nothing! The place is beyond huge, the air is forced in through some odd filtering system, the booths are too many to count, and the choices make one dizzy with decision. I walk this show twice a year, and I am amazed by the wonder of it all and sometimes the why of it all. Along with all our old favorites, I have added several new artists and designers, a number of new book publishers, more wonderful paper products, a new baby line, some amazing teas, and two new jewelry designers…the list could go on and on. Good things are in store for us all!
Dog Does the Javits in Style!
This little pooch was all tarted up for the Javits, as was her owner!
Paletas Vendor on the High Line
The last day in New York City, I walked the new section of the High Line. What a way to view the city! I bought from this vendor a paletas which I have never eaten before. I nearly ordered the paletas book for the store, and now I am sorry I didn’t. The flavor I had was mango and jalapeno pepper…icy cold and delicious!
One last word on food in New York City before you all doze off! You must eat sometime in The Red Cat on tenth avenue near twenty-third. The last night I was in the city, I went unfashionably early to dinner and stayed unreasonably late! I loved my waiter (Brazilian and handsome). I loved my little table where I could watch the comings and goings of the room, but most of all I loved the food! I ordered three small plates…lime Cesar salad, gazpacho soup made with heirloom tomatoes, soft shelled crab on a bed of thinly sliced celery root with fried capers scattered about…if that wasn’t enough I ordered dessert! A coconut panacotta with carmelized pineapple and spiced macadamia nut crunch over the top! Add to this a glass of wine, coffee to finish, and I was a happy camper.
Route 5 & 20 Somewhere in Upstate New York
Who in their right mind could resist a road trip? And not just any old road trip but one best taken to the farmy lands where garlic can be had at Joe’s. This is the very same stop as last year’s road adventure where I deposited the money for Joe’s garlic in a small lidded red tin before pulling back onto the two-lane highway. This sort of trust is what Upstate is all about! Sure, there might be a thug or two lurking around somewhere but in nearly a thousand miles I didn’t see nary a one.
I did eat, once again, at my favorite Mexican restaurant in Canadaigua, and I slept in the very same Inn on Main. I fell in love all over again with this part of the world…if you haven’t been and Paris, France was on your agenda or Paris, Texas or Paris, Maine…forget it! Try the Finger Lakes…you will not be disappointed.
Goats Expecting a Handout.
In My Next Life!
This could well be me! Give me an open field, assorted boxes of goods to sell, a warm afternoon, and I swear to you this could be it. Perhaps without the cigarette…and maybe the mix of “treasures” would be slightly different, but I admired this woman’s complete love of the moment. I swatted away no-see-ums that dove up my nose when I breathed in or down my throat or took passage in my ears or circled my head and shoulders…not so for Donna! We talked some and she seemed to not be bothered with the little critters. I think it was the cigarette smoke that kept her at peace with all the best that Todds Field had to offer last Sunday!
A Favorite Table at Rowley
Why did I not buy this dog? I loved it enough to take more than one photo. I pondered how this dog reminded me of my childhood boston terrier (known in our Locust Street house as the Boston Terror.) His name was Bows and he arrived tucked into my Dad’s work-coat pocket. I can’t remember ever seeing a more adorable living thing! He peed on the carpet, tore apart the cover for my mother’s treasured mangle iron and pooped in hidden places like closets and on the tops of black patent leather Mary-Janes. And he did other things that divided the house into war zones. We loved him even on his most out-of-control days. Back then, no one ever heard of dog trainers or dog training unless, of course, you had a big ole black lab who could fetch fallen ducks filled with buckshot from the pond while the brave hunter stayed cozy and tucked into his duck blind. So Bows ruled the roost at 1065 Locust Street. I can’t believe I didn’t buy this little chalk dog!
Sunday's Gift of Veggies
After Rowley, the open field and the dog I didn’t buy…I worked at the store. A lovely young man came in…we chatted about veggies and pigs (which he raises), and then he laid on my desk this divine little stash of fresh veggies from the gardens out in Dover! Thank you to the handsome young man whose name I don’t remember.
Well...It Is Time To Vote Again!
How can I even suggest you go online (to the city voter Boston A list) and once again vote for the store? We won last year, and I feel a tad ashamed to suggest you vote for me again. I guess I have no shame!
New York City's Wonder...the High Line
It is quite possible that I am the last person on earth to walk the High Line! Not that I haven’t tried a time or two…too much thunder one time and then too much snow another time. Tuesday morning, with the heat index hitting 90 degrees, I walked over to 10th Avenue and 20th Street. It was there that I entered a world of utter divine deliciousness! Get thee to New York and this amazing adventure! No dogs allowed (no dog poop), no skateboards (no clipping of the ankles), no bicycles (“passing to your left,” no thank you!). It is silent up there on the walkway! One side, looking down, is an Italian sausage maker, next to him is the house of veal with its trucks parked like crooked teeth in front of the ancient brick building. On the other side of the High Line, looking down, I see cobblestone streets and the likes of Diane Von Furstenberg’s chic boutique, and over there, to my right, Jeffries and the house of Prada! All of them lining the streets of the meat packing district!
Beyond the sausage maker is the Hudson River and the Lackwanna bridge on the Jersey shore as if posed for my camera. No end of attention has been paid to the plantings…makes me marvel at the randomness of it all, and the utter planning that must have been paid to each and every one. To list only a few…there are smoke trees and birches and wild poppies and lupine and false indigo and rugosa roses and ornamental onions and then there are the grasses all low growing mounded tufts of lemon yellow, acid green, hunter green. Here and there, the original tracks pop into view softened by all the underplanting. Thank you, New York City for showing us all what can be done with much hard work and deep pockets!
One other thing I must mention is the installation of Stephen Vitiello who has his living art project, “A Bell For Every Minute.” Divine!
The High Line as It Once Was
Maybe a bit hard to detect but there you have a project about to become something quite wonderful in a decade or two!
Robert Warner Swept Us Off Our Feet!
What can be said of a full day with a quirky artist? Bring us all more days of this man’s imagination! The world has become such an odd place, and yet there doesn’t seem to be too many options for living otherwise. Robert, on the other hand, transported us and gave us a day of his amazing work and his wonderful gentle self. For a full-on day, there was nothing else except jaw-dropping joy! Thank you, Robert, come back anytime!
Robert Warner's Terners!
We have kept a small body of Robert’s work…come in to check it out!
Markets of New England
This Saturday (with any kind of luck it will be clear and dry), we will welcome Christine Chitnis for her book signing. We are most excited about this book…I believe you will be too. I would love to think that this dear, small gem might be tucked into every bike basket in New England. For those of you, like myself who haven’t put air in your bike tires since 1955, you might just tuck “Markets of New England” in the glove box of your electric car. How about that word “glove box”…now that is a blast from the last century, but what else does one call that catch-all filled with worn maps and old chewing gum papers?
One-of-a-Kind Kantha Jackets
Now, when I am not walking the acres of Brimfield or shopkeeping or gardening or cooking up a five-course meal or divorcing one husband or the other, I can be found most often in my studio whipping up goods for the store. I will say (with not much modesty) I adore these jackets! One size fits most (my kind of sizing) and wouldn’t you just be the smartest one ever hitting all the markets of New England in your very own one-of-a-kind jacket from our store!
Brimfield and a Mighty Fine Sign
It must have been a Tuesday when I loaded up the granny cart in the way-back of Big Jane and headed up the Mass Pike for Brimfield. I took with me: water, pockets of cash, two pair of shoes, the odd sweater, and my dear friend John Ross. We wandered the fields searching for the best reasonable treasures and instead found things to be outrageously priced. We ate peanut butter and apricot jam sandwiches wrapped in old- fashioned wax paper just like school lunch time (these a gift of John). At the very end of the day, after bags of salty sweet popcorn, we then managed to wrap our lips around a quite fantastic pulled pork sandwich. My granny cart was pretty much empty, my stomach reasonably full of all the sorts of things one might justify eating while tramping around a couple thousand acres of antiques or antique wannabes!
This Says It All!
April Fools Day brought snow…heavy wet stuff that I didn’t have the desire to remove given that two weeks ago I tucked away anything that smacked of winter and/or snow removal. These nasty snow accessories had become commonplace items resting the full winter on my front porch. There was no way I was going to the basement to seek out their company once again!
The end of March and into the first week of April brought house guests (hence the photo). Folks from Denmark that I have known for a hundred years…old friends who are now old acquaintances, which is such a quaint word but fits the week nicely!
My friend John loaned me his delicious house in Provincetown. It was early in the week and the weather was divine. Mid-week, we took in the most recent exhibit at the Peabody Essex Museum in Salem…if you haven’t been to see the private collection of Flemish art do so immediately! The Museum supplies a hand-held magnifing glass for closer inspection of each painting. What a treat!
Bauhaus Pink Balcony of the Gropius House
The last day of the Danish invasion, we went to the Walter Gropius house in Lincoln, MA. This is one of the Historic New England’s properties, and one I was quite certain I would not entirely enjoy. Wrong again! It was terrific and the Danes loved it also. We then wandered along the small roads of Lincoln, which remind me of why I love New England. When I dropped off the guests at their Icelandic Air Terminal and we said our final good-byes, I noticed the week’s accumulation of pug hairs on their chic black clothes…there might have been just enough of those stray little hairs to create a whole new pug suitable for Denmark!
Now I must set about with the beading for Rita Rose’s frock for the royal wedding! She has decided on Italian silk taffeta with a little nipped-in waist and an off-the-shoulder bodice with plenty of pug cleavage. Her chiffon shawl will have tiny silk rose petals and small seed pearls around the edge. That dog insists on a pair of Manolos for her hind feet, which are, to my mind, a bit too strappy and way too tarty for such an elegant event.
Cheers Darlings all and happy spring!
