Tuesday, September 12, 2017

Returning home

The blue Endless Summer hydrangea by the front porch is full with new blooms—finally. Not a single floweret was seen throughout the entire summer. This hydrangea was definitely not doing any honor to its name. Until now.  And maybe I will still have blue hydrangeas by Halloween? 

Halloween. The word always brings magical thoughts to my mind... of chilly evenings and crimsoned leaves swirling in autumnal breezes. Warm sweaters, pumpkin pies, hearty black bean soups and out of the oven warm baguettes. To catch a leaf in midair, make a wish, kiss it and toss it into the wind. And a time to return home.

And thus... we've been deep cleaning outside and inside our little white cottage so that we can finally put it up in the market for sale.  Yes, it is official my friends!  We're returning to the house in the roses before the year is over.
It is with hearts filled with bittersweet emotions and nostalgic feelings that we're preparing ourselves to say 'goodbye' to our beautiful, cozy, magical little white cottage in the woods.  Our dear sweet nest that for so many days gifted us with shelter, joy, and wonder. 

So many emotions, so many thoughts running through our minds and hearts. Life is such an unpredictable adventure! For who would have thought back then when we were living our dear house in the roses on that Halloween day, four years ago, that we' were to return to it?  And in such short time! 

A blessed time it had been, and some wonderful years spent here at our little white cottage. Years of spiritual growth, a time for fulfilling dreams, making new friends, collecting eternal memories. Years of togetherness and amazing blessings, miracles, and dreams come true.

I am thankful beyond words for every moment spent here, for every memory made. Thankful for everything I was able to accomplish, for this precious garden created out of my hands by the breath of God.  For that magical, perfect wooded area behind my gardens.  For my birds, squirrels and rabbits. For that enigmatic white rabbit wearing a waistcoat that I see roaming my gardens from time to time. For the witch who lives somewhere deep in my woods.  For the pond and the fishes.  For the white cat that on one cold winter morning came to me and stayed around until the roses bloomed and the robin-blue eggs hatched. 

Thanksgivings and Christmas at the little white cottage—what a delightful time you were! Surrounded by dear ones who for the very first time since I left my maternal home and went far away were able to come to us, and celebrate at our home.  What a blessing it has been to finally be able to be the host and serve, and love and be one in harmony, love and acceptance!  Fairy lights on the country porch and twinkling stars on the holly hedge.  

The round, orange moon at the feet of giant trees up the hill.  The dark, silent country roads and fireflies in June.  The mist after the rain and the quiet hilly roads on my morning jogs.  Elephant ear and crepe myrtles.  The distant coo call of pigeons and the songs of wood frogs.  The loud courtship songs of cicadas, the yellow bus at 2:00.

My little heart is overflowing with gratitude. For the precious gifts bestowed upon us these past four years. For the proximity of dear ones and all the many occasions we were able to see them and be together.  A precious gift.  A dream come true.  

Thankful beyond words for our precious little white cottage of my dreams, surrounded by trees and that enchanting wood at the edge of the garden where the voices of Nature can always meet my heart. Sunny, magical, and filled with birds.

My little heart is crying inside.  For what we're living behind.  Because the human heart is just like that. We wish for that what it is not and cry for that which it was.  And I'm almost forgetting that I cried for many days when we first moved south, remembering what I'd left behind.  And I can't forget that I'm now crying for all I've learned to love and soon leaving behind.

Mixed emotions.  A heart that is torn between two homes, two gardens, two lives.  Wish me well.  Wish me luck.  And please don't forget me.  Come and say hi and follow me back to the house in the roses, and that new life that's awaiting for us.

I thank you from the bottom of my heart for being a follower a reader and a friend!  
I love you all. From the little white cottage... to you.

PS: I will continue posting and documenting our progress, until the day we say goodbye to our little white cottage forever.      

Saturday, September 9, 2017

My gypsy soul

Hi, I am here again!  Yes, you must all forgive me for that.  I'm not addicted to blogging, or social media, I promise.  I'm just a bit anxious, and a bit edgy if you may, about what's going on in my beloved Florida.  So to soothe my soul, I need to sit down and write.  

Are you a bohemian?  Do you like decorating in bohemian style?  Bohos are not restricted by other people’s opinions. There are no trends in boho decor — forget Shabby Chic, French provincial and all the design labels. Bohos are pickers and choosers who follow their own tastes. Boho is a state of mind rather than a look — have you got the boho in you?

This here is my boho room.  It is also my favorite room in my entire house.  What I like about it is the fact that I can decorate this little space just as I please, whenever I please, without having to fight the guilt of thinking that perhaps someone might not like it, or may find it too peculiar, or too busy, or simply too unusual or just not them.   

I change it often, and decorate it accordingly to my state of mind.  I had recently taken down all the art I had on these walls; which were actually almost all covered up in them.

I had a nice assortment of art in my gallery wall; not specifically matching in any sense.  Different styles, and frames, colors and so on, but I loved them all.  I love gallery walls, but I worried about all those holes and scratches I had put on those walls, and my spirit would not find its peace until I took them all down and filled all those holes one by one and painted the entire room.  But that's just me, because I am a little OCD.

Now I have a more serene look going on in there.  Basically the same boho style I had last year, but with a few changes.  I have a new Mandala embellishing my bed, this time in black and white, because, usually, my spirit craves the peacefulness of neutrals.  But I do have all other colors too, just in case the crazy-gypsy in me comes out and request I change my room to teals and oranges and thus far. 

Bohemianism has always been associated with artists, musicians, writers and designers, and if you are here, or come here often, you probably have artistic leanings too. Why not start work on a bedroom mural or collage that tells the story of your life as it unfolds? 

Famous bohemians I admire:

Artist Frida Kahlo
Singer Stevie Nicks
Poet Leonard Cohen
Dancer Isadora Duncan

Are you a bohemian girl?  Who's your favorite bohemian?

Do share!

Thursday, September 7, 2017

Late summer days

A new kind of a breeze is running through the garden these days.  It's cool, and light, and it's lifting leaves and spreading petals everywhere. Temperatures have dropped, and my soul can already hear the voices of the new season calling my name.

I so love those slow hours of the tired summer spent in the garden. The days are polished with morning haze, and nights are turning chilly and the insects have gone to sleep early.  I wish I could retain theses moments and days forevermore in my heart, so I can later come back to them and bask in this joy...

The garden is slowing down too, but it still is much alive, and the hummingbird couples that live here are a charming playful little thing to watch... going from flower to flower wherever they see red.  The elephant ear plants have been growing, growing... growing to Jurassic plant sizes.  Whenever I go by them I can almost feel the ground trembling under the feet of those enormous brachiosaurus and diplodocus that must live somewhere deep down in my woods.

Yesterday, one of my Paradise rose bushes bloomed overnight. 
I cut its jewels, and made a lovely bouquet. 

I love this tarnished vase. It is a wide-mouth and I can fill it with lots of roses and any other combination of prettiness found in the garden... flowers, herbs, branches and more.  

Every hour at the little white cottage bestow it's own magic and beauty.  At 9:00am the living room and master bedroom get bathed in golden globules of sunshine and magic.  Everything there is a game of light and shadows, and wherever I look there's magic, and whatever I see I love.  Then at 2:00pm is the peaceful front porch where I would sit down and wait for the yellow school bus to go up the hill while I wave at every little boy and girl that never wave back, or even see me, but I still do...  at 5:00pm, it is the back garden towards where the woods meets the garden, or where the garden ends and the woods takes over.  It is flooded with light.  Mellow, ochre light and peacefulness and twinkling light among branches and leaves.  It truly is a magical place at that time of the day, and I cannot love my little world any more than I already do.      

I am praying-praying-praying and hoping that this beast of Hurricane Irma will move away far-far-far way and drop dead into the ocean away from all my FL friends and blog readers and people from everywhere and my dear ones who are all bundled up together at my sister', hoping and praying too. Such precarious days our entire world is living these days... more evidence that Jesus will soon return!

Take care, and be safe!

Tuesday, September 5, 2017

The moon

Did you get to see the full moon last night?

Round, yellow-orange like a perfect Mimolette cheese, and as magical as ever... a moon for when mysterious things happen and wishes come true.

Up the hill where all those tall trees stand in the front of our little white cottage, the moon was seen... coming up among those trees, as if rising from the ground... That's the view I get looking out from our front porch.  You see, our cottage is located right on the bend of two hills.  One coming up and one going down. Or vise-versa, depending on the direction you're coming, or going.  It all depends on directions. So if you're coming up the road from that certain hill all you will see is our roof—our little white cottage buried down at the bottom of that hill, but if you're going up the other way, then things stand higher up, and all you'd see are the tip of your neighbor's roofs and the moon right almost at the feet of those trees... something like what you see here...

It was getting darker very fast as I was out there taking pictures, and down that hill, the little white cottage looked mysterious, and quiet, and I felt the magic of ages wrapping up my soul in orange light... 

...the moon reigning over my little world, glowing down in its full splendor at all those willing to look up, or be out there photographing it.  What a magical moment that was!

And down the hill our cozy nest awaited!
So dark, and quiet!

Nights at the little white cottage are always so beautiful and dark, and I love the ambiguity and delicious mystery and coziness that surrounds us.  Nights in the country have no comparison... I would always prefer those country nights over noisy city nights.  The more when you get to live in a magical little white cottage, tucked away in a wood where fairy tales abound... a place where haunting beauty and magical strangeness surround you, and you get to live in a world where anything can happen. Frogs can be the handsomest of gentlemen, a thicket of brambles can hide a witch's shack deep in its floors, and a girl can fly with fireflies and dance with fairies... what else can one ask for!  Oh do tell me, where you out there adoring the moon too!

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