A Dozen of My Favourite Things for May

1.
The Imaginative Art of Gretel Parker
Illustrator and Toy Maker Extraordinaire
Her painting featured above, and below are a few of her latest toy creations:



2.
Charles Dickens on PBS

3.
The resurgence of wonderful wallpapers, as evidenced by
Grow, House, Grow...
a most creative company after my own heart...glorious wallpaper designs - each with its very own narrative!
I can just see a elegant entry hall... with this on the wall above glossy white panelling...


and dark antique furniture, sunburst mirrors, cut crystal vases of orange parrot tulips and a West Highland Terrier sitting on a black and white marble floor waiting patiently for the postman to put today’s mail through the bronze slot in the forest green front door.

4.
Listening to Astrid Gilberto with the windows open while I make a pie and the dogs sleep on the floor at my feet.

5.
This blog that I discovered just as its writer was on holiday in London.
It has now become a regular morning coffee stop for me.

6.
Sharp cheddar cheese melted on toasted sourdough bread

7.
Planting flowers, flowers, flowers!

8.
Lemon Ice Cream

9.
My collection of cotton pajamas from The Cat’s Pajamas

10.
SPF 90 and sun hats by Kokin

11.
This wonderful, wonderful rug:


I can just see it, lying on a polished wood floor in a room painted the palest shade of citron, with a magnificent stone fireplace, weathered leather chairs with tapestry cushions, the complete works of Simenon and Conan Doyle bound in red leather in French Deco bookcases, and leaded glass casement windows that open out onto a peony garden where a vaguely surly bulldog is waiting to be let back inside before it rains.

12.
And finally, this poem by Mary Oliver.
If only you could read it with your eyes closed.

Sleeping in the Forest

I thought the earth remembered me,
she took me back so tenderly,
arranging her dark skirts,her pockets
full of lichens and seeds.
I slept as never before, a stone on the river bed,
nothing between me and the white fire of the stars
but my thoughts, and they floated light as moths
among the branches of the perfect trees.
All night I heard the small kingdoms
breathing around me, the insects,
and the birds who do their work in the darkness.
All night I rose and fell, as if in water,
grappling with a luminous doom. By morning
I had vanished at least a dozen times
into something better.