Those Golden Days

A bleak place transfigured by sunset -- if ever there was an argument for good lighting, this is it. Red rocks in Colorado, as taken by Steven Thompson, Jr.

Margaret Howell's Getaway

It's been all over the place, but I find myself looking at Margaret Howell's cottage from the NYTimes post again every few days -- mostly because it looks so effortless, though of course the place is pure artifice.












Poetic cleaning supplies:



This is the challenge in being a designer: nothing is truly natural. All things are intentioned.

This beachside walk profile shot? Not random.



But yes,

NickHaus is featured on the Etsy blog today

I kept this under my hat, but I was asked to write a guest post on the excellent Etsy blog, and it runs today! I'm not sure what time it's running, but all of the articles are fascinating and worth a look -- go check it out here.

The genesis of my post is this photo of my family in front of our beautiful and decrepit summer house. I'm at far left, circa 1993/94 -- dear Matthias, our hound, is no longer with us, but wasn't he a handsome beast?

AIAI: Ankle deep, he waded through the bluebells ...

His spirit rose and exalted as he breathed in the sun drenched air.









The glorious day was in its last decline -- long shadows lay on the sward -- and from above, the leaves dripped their shimmering drops of gold-green light.



Moths and butterflies swarmed in merry hosts, flittering here, glimmering there.
But hush: Could that be a deer?"

Images and text from one of my favorite films, Howards End, which is vaguely a guilty pleasure, mostly because it seems too pretty to possibly be worthwhile, but I adore it. And how terrible is it that I want desperately to carpet every bare bit of land with hyacinthoides non-scripta (English bluebells), though they are nonnative and spread quickly? I already have a source of seeds all worked out.

On the bluebell:
"The non-scripta or non-scriptum part of the botanical names means 'unlettered' or 'unmarked' and was intended to distinguish this plant from the classical hyacinth of Greek mythology. This mythical flower (which may have been a wild species of Hyacinthus, Iris or other flower) sprang up from the blood of the dying prince Hyacinthus. His lover, the god Apollo, shed tears that marked the new flower's petals with the letters 'AIAI' ('alas') as a sign of his grief."

Sorry for the silence -- I've been busy, and then we had depressing weather and everything I thought of was sad, and then we had resplendent weather and I just wanted to be outside, and none of these are conducive to blogging. But this is an exciting week -- big surprise tomorrow!