Flying Buttresses
One of the amazing things our ancestors did with little more than their bare hands.
One of the amazing things our ancestors did with little more than their bare hands.
Nye Beach, from the Table of Contents Restaurant at the Sylvia Beach Hotel
Newport, Oregon
Cape Cod National Seashore
Samphire Hoe, England Read more about On the Beach
Home with a terrible, horrible, no-good, very bad cold, it's comforting to remember that I was once, for 24 magical hours, in Venice.
I've had this poster for over 30 years. Friends had it framed for me for a long-ago birthday. It used to hang over my desk, but when I moved to this house as a newly-single woman, I thought it was time for me to sleep with the band, so I hung it over my bed.
This flag hangs in the John F. Kennedy Library in Boston. I wondered if the space in which it hangs was supposed to represent the gantry of a spaceport, since it was President Kennedy who set us the task of going to the moon. I was told that it wasn't, but I like to think of this flag as hanging over the launchpad to tomorrow.
A friend insisted that I visit the Getty Gardens when I was near LA last week. I think this is what he was talking about.
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A year ago I was visiting with my family in southern Illinois. Her dining room table could hold its own with the Skagit Valley of Western Washington State.
I didn't see the Villa of the Mysteries on my visit to Pompeii, but I did see this lovely piece in what I think was a Roman fast food joint.
A few friends and I rented a little cottage near Axbridge five years ago. I think Sophie would like the Church of St. John's every bit as much as I did. She might even have a little chat with Anna Prowse. I envy her that. Read more about Axbridge
York is one of the possible homes of my Bates ancestors, and I wanted a souvenir from my first visit there in 2005. A selection of small crystal Christmas tree ornaments in the window of a shop kitty corner from York Minster caught my eye. I love my collection of ornaments, and I thought this little guy would fit right in. I bought him, stuffed him in a sock for the journey, and that Christmas he made himself right at home.
Read more about The Littlest Angel