island living

Ya'll didn't know we lived in the tropics, did you? We don't, but somehow we're managing to grow (and go!) bananas! Neel and neighbor-Tyler planted several banana trees around each of our yards this spring, and a few weeks ago Tyler noticed that one of ours was flowering! To say we were stunned was an understatement. I mean, we're hot and muggy here, but not nearly tropical. Remember all that snow we got last winter?

But if you look closely, behind that gorgeous flower, there they are. Little tiny bananas!

None of Tyler's trees are bearing fruit and our feeling about this is that our own tree has been blasted by the compressor from the air conditioner all summer. Kinda like it's own little micro-climate. I have high hopes for these little guys, but even if they don't get any bigger or yellow enough to cut up into our cereal, I'm calling it. We grew bananas.

five things, september 23rd edition

1. I think I love picture day.
2. I think these smiles will be erased if we get the predicted rain over the weekend, thus canceling baseball practice and games.
3. I think I never dreamed I'd be sitting at baseball practice.
4. I think I must have to dust and sweep every. single. day. Will shedding season never end?
5. I think I'm ready for fall. Bring it on.

pot pie

I've been thinking about my friend Megan a lot lately, and when Callum asked for chicken pot pie, I knew I had to make hers. I've had my share of pot pie disasters, such as this one, but the one I made last night has always been successful for us.

It's always easier to make than I think it's going to be. We should have it more. I should have some for breakfast.

tart's boudoir

This was my great-grandmother's chair. We call it the "Tart's Boudoir." I think I told you that we tend to nickname things around here. Everything except me. Anyhoo. Doesn't that look like where this chair belongs? All carved wood and deep red velvet. Perfect for a tart's boudoir.

I don't actually have a lot of good to say about my great-grandmother. I don't think I ever met her, but the stories my dad could tell! Boy-Howdy.

What I do remember of this chair is of it in my grandparent's house. Not a tart's boudoir. Past the days of parlors (and whorehouses, I suspect), this chair never looked like it belonged. It just didn't look quite right with their green shag carpet, ya know?

 
Still, this chair appealed to me, and when my grandparents died, I knew I wanted it. We tried it in the living room, but it just wasn't a look I was going for. Still formulating that look apparently. It landed in the dining room for awhile, but it was damned uncomfortable at the table (too low), even though the red looked really lovely against the turquoise walls.

We have a bare corner in our bedroom where once sat a leather club chair that Neel took into his office, and suddenly this weekend it struck me that Tart's Boudoir would look really nice against the dark blue walls. I had but to suggest it to my husband, and he snuck it up when I wasn't looking. It works, it really works. There's a window on this side of the room, and even curtained it lets in the most delicious shaft of subtle light.

The Tart's Boudoir belongs. In my bedroom no less.

I'm okay

Some of you have asked, which is really nice, and I'm fine. I really do have a lot on my mind, from the simple (like: Where has my photography mojo gone?) to the sublime (like: If I can't find curtains that I just love, why don't I make some?), and everywhere in between. I'm not going to lie. There's some hard stuff in between, but for the most part, it's adjusting to new routines and trying to make decisions and just a general overwhelmed-ness. August and September are always hard on me, it seems.

This blog has always been meant as a gift for my family, and when I say that, I mean primarily Neel and Callum. I don't mean that the rest of my family doesn't count (!), it's just that when I think about this space, I think it terms of capturing our lives and honoring the things we do together and hold dear. Sometimes it's hard to know how much (or even what) to say. I know that other people check in here, and I appreciate that more than I have words for. But I also sometimes get caught in wondering what I want this space to be. What it means to me versus what I want it to mean to others. And should I even care? Should I try to move us forward or just keep on keeping on?

All that to say simply, it's okay. I'm okay. Everything's okay.