Summer Stripes

While many folks know I'm a girl who loves plaid,
I do believe summer and stripes make perfect partners.
Here are a few of my favorites:

From Pottery Barn

The classic black and white beach umbrella.  I can't afford this one, but I'll find a cute knock-off!

From T.G. Green

A Cornishware dreadnought pitcher to hold fresh-picked garden roses.

From Garnet Hill

Cheerful jersey-striped sheets and pillowcases.

From L.L. Bean

My all-time favorite striped jersey.  I've worn L.L. Bean French Sailor's shirts since I was a teenager.  They come in great colors, wear beautifully for many years, and look perfect with jeans, capris, a skirt, shorts--you name it.  An absolute staple.  The knit is heavy, so it's perfect year-round and for cooler summer days or evenings.  Here in Maine we get a lot of those!  :)

From Nicola's Home

I LOVE the colors in this hat!  Everything at Nicola's Home is beautiful, but this hat . . . oh, my!

From Target

What could be better in summer than espadrilles?  

Target has some great ones at good prices!  

I'll be stocking up.

Please let me know about any other summer stripes you find!

No Man is an Island . . . Except when the Internet is on the Fritz

Hello, lovelies!  Please forgive my long absence.  My hiatus from blogging was completely unexpected.  Actually, it was a hiatus from all things online.  Mr. Magpie and I were staying over on the island with friends, and we'd been assured that our rental cottage would have internet access.   When we arrived, however, we discovered that it didn't.  Not one single bar.  Not a wee bit of the World-Wide Interweb.

Ah, the mixed blessings of no internet.  Yes, it was lovely to be completely cut off from email and Facebook, and we would have relished it were we there on a straight-up holiday, but it was a working-vacation for most of us, so the lack of access to the outside world proved to be a challenge.  In fact, Mr. Magpie ended up coming back to the mainland to work quite often, and I simply postponed all internet-related tasks.  

That, combined with one non-functioning shower, a busted DVD remote, a chair held together with cardboard and contact paper (I'm not kidding), and a toilet that ran until you lifted the lid and adjusted the ball cock, made for much improvising all week.  In fact, we've changed the name of the cottage from "Beach House" to "Make Do."

On the other hand, the lack of amenities made for much hilarity as we discovered each new broken item in the house, and we cared very little about showers or sitting down when we were just a few yards from a sandy beach and a sky full of stars.  Mostly, the holiday was about reconnecting with dear friends during long walks and bike rides around the island, afternoons of beach combing, ferry rides at sunset, and food--pots of steamed mussels, bowls of fiddleheads, plates heaped high with fresh local greens.

And did I mention writing?  There was writing, indeed.  Loads of it.  With no interruptions from the online world, we wrote our hearts out.  And truly, what could be better than that?

Hoping you are well and flourishing.  Looking forward to catching up with you.  xo Gigi

     

Night Rain (No Pictures, Just Words)

Some nights rain is a refuge, the foghorn's blast a blessing murmured half asleep.  She finds all the hidden places on those nights, piles memories on like worn quilts, forgets to listen for steps on the stairs.  She reaches for nothing, lets the curtains stay open, leaves the candle be.  What's a little darkness?  

Once she tasted night from a knife's edge in small, hard slices, but over time she has learned the art of the spoon, the small stir and sip, the warm, burnished curve that cools on the tongue, but never turns cold.  Night rain can fall all it wants.  She has her pages and cups and the rise and fall of a small life that needs hers.  

To be needed in the dark.  That is something to hook her heart and hold it fast until the light returns.

Inspirations: Springtime, a Dear Friend, and My Big Brother

I've been thinking often of my word for the year: inspire.  I'm feeling incredibly inspired lately, especially now that spring has arrived in full force here in Portland.  I have a huge writing project to finish, and for the first time, I can honestly say the end is in sight.  So, thank you soft spring air and blooming cherry trees, and cheerful muscari.  Somehow all this growth and renewal gets me to writing.

Photo by prairie girl studio

I also am feeling inspired by friends both far and near.  One friend in particular is on my mind today.  Her name is Aeleen, but perhaps some of you know her better as prairie girl.  She is back to blogging these days, and her gorgeous photos and words are more inspiring than ever.  You can visit her here. Also, Aeleen was the winner of my London Treasures Giveaway, so if you're curious about what goodies I gathered while on my trip, she and one of her sons have created a wonderful post about the package.  When you read it, you'll discover that Aeleen has been through a great deal in the past several weeks.  I'm holding her and her family in my heart as I write this.

The photo above is of one of the Murano glass eggs I included in the parcel.  I think she and Jesse have taken a pretty object and turned it into something spectacular.  That's what Aeleen does with everything she photographs.  She notices detail in a way that never ceases to amaze me.  She also has a heart of gold.  Truly.  Perhaps that is what inspires me most.

And finally, the photo above is of my big brother when he was a wee lad.  Mark celebrated his birthday this past week.  He's now just a few years decades older than he was in this photo.  I've never mentioned him here on the blog before, so I hope he doesn't mind.  Ever since I can remember, my brother has inspired me with his artistic talent, his quick wit, his insatiable curiosity, and his deeply caring soul.  When we were kids I loved to watch him draw ornate pictures of houses and flowers and fantasy race cars in his sketch book, and I would follow him pretty much anywhere he would let me.  I especially liked searching in the woods with him for treasure . . .  or hanging blankets in the attic to make a fortune teller's tent . . . or building elaborate sand castles encrusted with shells and sea glass at the beach.  No matter what we did, everything with my brother felt like an adventure.  I love this picture of Mark with our kitten Sharon in his arms, because it captures who he was then and who he still is now.  He has taken in countless injured, ailing, and homeless animals over the years, providing them with shelter and boundless love.  He has also offered incredible support to me whenever I've asked--and often when I haven't.  We've lived far apart for most of our adult lives, but no matter how many years pass, I can just close my eyes and he's in the bedroom next to mine, Led Zepplin or Janis Joplin cranked up to 10.  I can just knock on the wall if I need him, and I know he'll always knock back.   

Spring Walk

The redwing blackbirds are back and chattering overhead.  The males choose the highest branches, the very tips, or the tops of cattails--always the impossible perch.  Their glossed black wings are capped with scarlet flashing and stripes of toy-box yellow, all the better to swoop the meadow--my heart's own superheroes.

Far below them the females pose as sparrows, brown and busy with the muddy work of spring.  Weavers and builders, they flit from grasses to bulrushes with neither pomp nor circumstance, but  purpose.  

And all around them, the meadow blooms.  The forest floor rustles with the sound of groundhogs gathering dead leaves for their dens at the edge of the woods.  Forsythia spill their gold tresses along the hillside--they've two weeks to be divas, then it's back to the chorus line.  

I walk the path between field and marsh, marking the progress of wild roses.  Long after I'm gone, the owls will take flight, but I like knowing they are here now.  I see them in my mind's eye as I circle back to the woods where the daffodils will reign for another week.  The peonies wait in the wings.

None of them care that I am here, which is just as it should be.  In my hand is cupped a tiny pine cone, its scales thin as parchment.  The wind picks up and the branches of pine trees rustle like petticoats.  The whole world seems on the verge, and yet this moment right now is the only one that counts.

At the last turn around the meadow a redwing sparks in the branches of a birch.  His song is the last thing I hear before I head home.   

Friday Afternoon at Home

I wrote all morning.  I'm working on a writing project that takes up most of my heart, mind, and soul right now, so please forgive me for a wee bit longer as I am less attentive to blogging--my blog and yours included.  

This afternoon my brain needed a break, so I took a few shots around the house of flowers and books.

Anyone who knows me well understands why this blog is called The Magpie's Fancy.  I am a collector of many things; books, keys, and ribbons are among the things I treasure most.  I found this stack of J.M. Barrie's works for a couple of dollars at a used bookstore last year.  An avid Barrie fan, I scooped them up and have loved them ever since.

This antique salt-glazed pitcher is actually my sister's, but she lets me keep it, because she knows how much I covet it.  It has a large crack and can't hold water, so I simply fill a glass with water and slip it inside.  I think these pink stock don't mind one bit.

I allowed a bunch of white ranunculus to dry out over the past few weeks, and I am taken by the graceful curves of their dried stems and the papery wrinkles of their petals.  

The whole city is filled with light today.  Spring has decided to let the cherry trees bloom.  The air tastes like a promise.

I have so much to share with you--a post about John Keats, photos of my beautiful city, thoughts about fear and writing . . . and so much more.  I'm anxious to learn what you have been up to as well.  In the meantime, the weekend is sneaking around the corner.  Hope yours is full of the best kind of surprises.

"With freedom, books, flowers, and the moon, who could not be happy?"  

~Oscar Wilde

Wishing you a Happy Easter and a beautiful spring!

xo Gigi