I’m not usually in the mood for cleaning come Spring, wanting instead to run outside after the long cold. But the turn of the year seems like the best time to rearrange and pay attention to the corners of my home.

At the foot of the stairs I hung the framed print of my grandfather’s book plate — illustrated with a thistle, for Scotland, and a bee since he kept hives. Above a tiny solo mitten holds a dried hydrangea blossom that blew into the driveway from the neighbors. Below the volunteer fireman certificate earned by the 1861 owner of this house and miraculously recovered on ebay by the owners before me. And for company, a postcard of a dancing lady tucked into the light switch.

The clean floor is dirtying fast, but the little grouping delights me every time I pass.

There is a “wintery mix” coming down outside and after shoveling the walks and bringing in wood for the stove we do not plan to venture out again today.

I turned the rubber plant into an ersatz tree and so far it is surviving the excited onslaught of the wee ones.

We have a fridge full of leftovers. For our vegetarian feast on Christmas Eve I made Nutmeat Paté in Brioche from the 1972 classic The Vegetarian Epicure.

(A cookbook worth checking out if only for entertainment value since many recipes list MSG as an ingredient and there are notations on what to serve after “sharing a pipe”.)

M, despite his Texas roots, was entirely satisfied. Although who can complain about any meal that ends with pie?

Today I picked some lettuce from one of the raised beds!

I couldn’t believe it when I saw the perky leaves, I had given up on them and yanked off their row cover last week.

Spring is feeling very far off so it was a treat to carry the handful of green indoors.

There are a couple more days of the Bracelet Show at Kathleen Sommers in San Antonio, Texas.

And through the end of December you can see a collection of my work at Langman Gallery in Willow Grove, Pennsylvania.

Last Thursday was Thanksgiving. This morning I said goodbye to the last member of my holiday visiting family and drove home from the train station in the rain, feeling suitably glum and wintery.

Some houses still have pumpkins on their stoops, but this was obviously the weekend for getting out holiday decorations – lots of glowing icicles hanging from eaves, and May-pole shaped ‘trees’ made of Christmas lights strands. Some blow-up snowman snow globes of which I will not speak another word.

My decorations are on my radar but not up yet. And the idea of getting a tree was collectively nixed the minute the word “kitten” was mentioned. I need some time to come up with a solution to that energetic, furry problem.

On Thanksgiving day we went up to Sam’s Point and walked in the fog,

and were given the gift of blue sky when we reached the lake at the top of the ridge.

There was fog dew on everything.

We came home and ate turkey and then leftovers, leftovers, leftovers for days.

On Saturday we visited the fairytale Mohonk Mountain House for lunch (and a menu change).

We got lost, briefly, in the garden maze but managed to find our way home.

It was a real vacation. We watched movies, played with cats large and small, and talked and laughed a ton. So good. It felt both long and short – how the best days always feel. I am grateful.

I’ve been making armies of earrings and necklaces, including lots of these Daisy necklaces, and shipping them off around the country.

I’m delighted to be showing at two new stores – Diane’s Artisan Gallery in Lawrence, Kansas, and The Collector in Merrick, NY. Go check ‘em out if you live nearby!

Since moving upstate I’ve been using my library a ton. The catalog is online and inter-library loan means I can request books from throughout the region and then walk a block to pick them up. No months of waiting followed by hours of heavy schlepping on the subway. I am liking the country life.

I’ve been devouring my way through unabridged recorded books (secret sanity-preservers for those of us who work with our hands) as well as glossy, gorgeous books on home improvement, knitting, baking, and of course gardening.

I was a little disappointed with Designing the New Kitchen Garden by Jennifer Bartley. I think she shot most of her pictures on overcast days and they are not quite as yummy as I’d like.

Then I turned the page and saw this.

Look familiar?!

I’ve never seen the book before; I designed my layout over the winter, doodling variations on graph paper.

My raised beds and the ones in the book are the same shape, the same width and length. The only differences are that my layout allows more room at the entrances and between the outer and inner beds so you can get a wheelbarrow through easily, and I have a path around the perimeter.

Jung’s theory of the universal unconscious is looking good to me. Patterns seem to be out there, waiting for us to reach out and find them.

Traveling home is different from going someplace new. Edinburgh is beautiful, spectacular in its location and architecture, but since I was born there I don’t take the pictures I would if it was my first trip. Or maybe I just can’t do it justice so I focus on the details.

Cabbages lined up from large to small.

The neighbor’s hat, worn unselfconsciously, overlooking laundry on the line.

Vintage signs on St. Stephens Street.

Blessings carved in the walls.

Texture.

Pattern.

And my favorite Manchester detail – chimney pots shaped like crowns.

Beware what you wish for – I have so much jewelry to make that I feel like I’m in a tightly choreographed dance, moving from beads to chores to paperwork and back. I am not complaining; it’s the good kind of busy, plus there’s cat play and coffee breaks, and excursions to the village board meeting and pilates class (variety is the spice).

In the middle of this twirling we’re going to Scotland and England to visit my family. A welcome break from the daily busy. Or at least it will be welcome once it’s here. I can’t wait for the moment when there’s nothing more I can do to prepare. Too bad if I’ve forgotten something; they sell toothbrushes in the UK. For this glorious “it’s too late” moment I have purchased yarn, and I plan to knit as many of these as I can. Mindless pleasure perfect for airport/airplane/visiting with relatives.

Since posting has been slim, despite my camera being full, before I leave I give you a little catch up of the past weeks here:

I made jam for the first time.

And it was good.

The kittens learned the value of a perfectly-sized box,

the importance of packing toys as well as yourself,

and the usefulness of recycled materials in lieu of those pesky packing peanuts.

The blight took out my solo tomato and all my potato plants.

My harvest was a few pounds of Dark Red Norland spuds,

and five green tomatoes which were respectfully chopped up and cooked into a chutney. (I’m hooked on canning.)

There were wonderful moments of feline détente between the young and the old.

Even, miraculously, between Miss Hissy and Maxie. (Actually I’m not sure that she knew he was there.)

And just in the last few days the leaves from the maples along the drive have taken flight.

As we’re about to do.