Twelfth Night, Or What You Will

I just had to post a festive image to mark Twelfth Night. It’s one of those wonderful old pagan holidays that I wish we still celebrated… – g

Happy New Year!

New beginnings. And a fresh restart to this blog. It was begun originally as a chronicle of a difficult time in my life (see earlier posts) but now I feel it’s correct to cast off its black template, change its focus and expand its purpose. Shifting its focus from just my home and garden and the life parallels contained therein and expanding its purpose and scope to cover many more of my activities: art, design, photography, writing, garden and home. Observations, inspirations and useful information is what I hope to communicate.


A time for looking around, looking out, looking upward.

The garden is a good place to do this. For the last week, a small patch of lilies has been promising to bloom. I assumed from the shape that they were Regal Lilies, and greatly anticipated their appearance. What a surprise yesterday morning to discover they were instead the glorious, heavenly-scented, perfectly-shaped Stargazer Lilies.

Four of them are doing their best in the upper front garden to show off as many blooms as their slender stems will hold. I am enthralled. Stargazers have flirted their way to the top end of my autumn planting list. Created in 1978 by a Mr. Leslie Woodriff, their sky-facing blooms inspired their name. Kudos to him.

A few weeks ago, I indulged myself by placing a silver glass gazing globe in one of the old stumps in the garden. In it, all things above, below and around are reflected, creating a new and unflinching perspective.

The house is not far from Lake Washington, and occasionally seaplanes pass over, returning from the San Juan Islands, near where my Dad had his boat, The Bluebird, moored. I spent his last Father’s Day with him and he talked about wishing there’d been a way for him to have a boat again, even in land-locked Utah. He was never one to have regrets, or to think of his own interests first, but he loved being on the water, possibly as much as he loved flying.

I wish you smooth sailing, Daddy.

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