Love Notes

As I sat on my favorite perch drinking my morning coffee and watching the goings on in Maine's Saco Bay, I chanced upon a Mutual of Omaha moment.  The water was all agitated and swirly due to a fast running incoming tide, and a group of cormorants had just arrived and were settling in to fish for breakfast.   I knew from my younger son, the outdoorsman, that there are diving ducks and puddle ducks.  Puddle ducks, he tells me, make for better eating, as they dine near the water's surface - on a diet full of lovely micro greens, seeds, insects and small fish.  Diving ducks, unlike their salad bar loving cousins, swim down to feed on all sorts of fish - bottom feeders, various crustaceans and all the other slimy stuff that never sees the light of day. 

Cormorants aren't ducks (I was pretty sure of this, just checked, got that one right, small victory accepted).   What I did not know is that cormorants are more than just divers, they're more like scuba divers, going down to depths of 25 feet and more.    I had only noticed that they seemed to be down there quite awhile before resurfacing with their catch.   Apparently I wasn't the only one watching.  READ MORE

Read more

How was your weekend - besides wet?  I've been thinking about all the families out there who packed their cars, hauled the coolers, organized the kids and the long handled shovels and the pool noodles, and are looking at a scene like this one above, with a traffic filled drive home not yet in their rear view mirror.   Memorial Day is one of only two precious long summer weekends that American life still grants to our working folk with limited vacation, and to have one with constant rain just seems unfair.  My heart goes out to everyone in this scenario.

And yet I must confess, this steady gray drizzle has felt like a welcome home gift to me.   I returned late Friday night from the Museum Store Expo in Philadelphia where I was showing my custom line of scarves, bangles and valet trays based on my paintings of bespoke places and collections.  Exhibiting at a wholesale market is a LOT - three days in a dreary windowless convention center, setting up a 10' x 5' booth which you hope will communicate your dreams.   But if just a few of the interesting conversations I had with amazing non profits on my dream client list come to fruition, I will be doing cartwheels on the beach like a second grader.  So cross your fingers for me.   

Remember those family vacations when your mother let you bring a friend along?   READ MORE

Read more

This photo is sort of like us.  A Love Note Reader's view of the world.  We see a beautiful blue sea with soft summery laundry billowing in the foreground.  We can almost feel the sunshine on our shoulders,  a breeze wafting through salty hair.  We ignore what looks like a platoon of icebergs passing by in the background.   This is our nature.

The iceman has already cometh, we're all done with winter.  We expect this last gasp of March to exit like an Easter lamb.   And off we go.   READ MORE

Read more

Blue endures.  We all love it.  We all look good in it.  I'd venture to guess that everyone reading this has at least one blue room in their house.  Blue feels steady and familiar, kind of like home.

When I'm buying stones, I'll buy half in blue and split the rest among all the other colors.   Why?  Perhaps because our subconscious tells us that blue evokes calm, trust, steadfastness.  After all, it's the color of deep water, wide skies and open horizons.   I think it invites me to pause, to breathe, to see with more clarity.

Let's turn our collective Love Note gaze to the why.  READ MORE

Read more

I started out thinking today's note should be set to Ella Fitzgerald singing "Autumn in New York" ... and yet before I knew it, Nina Simone was crooning "Feeling Good" in my ear (so good!), fast forward forty minutes (which flew by) and I had created this playlist, neatly bookended by the two songbirds.  In my mind's eye, I'm picturing it as a soundtrack for a Nancy Meyers movie with you as the protagonist ... camera pans as you stroll through Central Park (or along your favorite hometown walking route) ... the director calls for a zoom in as you pause to kick a few leaf piles, and a red maple drifts up toward the clouds.  What is our lovely protagonist (YOU) thinking in that moment?  What is she longing for?  Where would her story lead, if she dared to write the next scene herself?  READ  MORE

Read more