home made: awning stripe tote











I had a lovely dream last night...
...Miss Sophia's Room was mine.
{ I have always wished her room was mine, in all of its' dreamy whiteness}
I told my little Sophie about the dream.
After the hustle and bustle of the holidays it is always nice to think of the {sweet sound of silence}...
...there is no better way to relax than with a long, hot bath...maybe a few candles, some music, a book...to each of us it is something different that soothes the soul.
...a dear friend of mine shared her recipe for {lavender bath salts} this holiday...
There is nothing like the sweet taste of homemade jam...
...{wild berry jam} is a homemade favorite of mine. Every year as I gather the goods to make this treat I remember my Granny canning in her kitchen. Everything from beans to jellies, preserves to sauces. It was a year long process for her. There was always something ready to be harvested and made ready for the cellar.
It is with her in mind that I recreate those moments in the kitchen and spread the feeling of homemade cheer.
...punch a hole in your {tag} and feed twine through. Tie a bow.
Add a scrap of {muslin} and tie and trim ends...
..enjoy your treat!
{MAKE MAIL ART}
No matter how many dips and curves { LIFE } sends our way, the { JOY } of Christmas spirit has a way of making itself known.
It has been a long and bumpy road these past few months but Christmas has arrived and with it, feelings of happiness and blessings.
...take a peek at the the festive decorations that surround us and make us smile...
...a collection of ornaments, old and new, adorn the tree...
Some things in life just make us smile. For Sophie it is {MUSIC}.
The beat is something that lives within this child. She is lovingly referred to around here as {the happy child}. So happy. All the time happy. Wake up kinda happy.
She loves to hear music. She loves to sing and dance. Not in a class. Not on a stage. Just for herself.
There is not a time when she is not {dancing} through the room, or {trilling} her thoughts out loud. If she has something to tell you there is a very good chance she will sing it to you. In {OPERETTA} style, no less. She thinks that this is a perfectly fine way to communicate. Sometimes, when the {OPERA} is out, she sing songs her message to you in a British accent. It matters not to her that even British accented singers don't sing this way. It is entertaining to {HER} and that is all that matters.
Why does she do this? I asked her one day. She told me that she was {dancing to the music in her heart.} There is nothing more perfect or wonderful than an answer such as that...and so she is the happiest child we know. Dancing and singing her way through the days...
...the results are in. The Regional Meet concluded. The results say she will not advance to the State Meet...that she is not a winner. You decide.
My sweet, sweet Olivia. She practiced endlessly. She worked tirelessly. She prayed for victory. She went into that meet a champion. She gave it her all, gaining time, yet again.
She swam, and she swam and she swam. Pre-dawn mornings that extended into late night bus rides. Day after day, meet after meet her encouraging attitude coaxed not only her own tired body on, but those of her teammates. She was a true Captain. A real leader. An athlete worth knowing. She was a champ.
She beat her own personal goals, fought off fatigue and weathered the unusual cold. No wind, no ticking clock, no "this has not been done before" could slow her down, extinguish her cheer.