A Year and a Word

We woke up yesterday to find our  backyard blanketed in many more inches of snow than we had expected.  It was the thick, heavy snow that bends small trees to the ground and breaks off large limbs from the great white pines.  It also temporarily turns our funny little garden shed into an enchanted fairy tale cottage.  

Earlier in the week we'd walked the icy trails at Gilsland Farm, seeking quiet amidst the chaos of the season.  This year's holidays have felt even more tumultuous than usual.  I think the news of the world after this long, often terrible, year has left many of us exhausted.

In the face of unrest and suffering in the world, I've found myself turning more and more to the wintery landscapes and seascapes of my home state for solace.  It's there in the bone-colored branches of birches, the grey ocean waves laced with white, and the dry tufts of frozen grass in open fields that I look for the escape my heart longs for.

I haven't become a complete hermit, I promise.  I welcome the cries of seagulls as I walk the cobblestoned streets of Portland, the rush of winter robins' wings overhead in the trees, and the laughter of school kids swooping down hillsides on makeshift sleds.

And the companionship of loved ones.  I'm not always up for talking these days, but I am almost always up for a walk, and a shared cup of something warm when we return home.

Choosing my word for 2017 was easy.  I didn't even think about it.  I just knew: peace.  That's all I hope for this year.  Peace for those I love, for myself, and for the world.  Over the summer I taught myself how to play ukulele, and one of the first songs I learned how to play was John Lennon's "Imagine."  As I learned the chords and gradually discovered how to weave the words in as I played, I found myself experiencing the song in a new way.  I've always loved the lyrics, but each time I now come to "Imagine all the people, living life in peace," I feel it so strongly that I often have to stop playing for a few moments.  Peace is what I hope for, for me and for you, my friends.  I will do my best to help make it happen in the tiny ways that I know how.  Wishing you a year of joyful adventures, truly funny moments, inspiration, love, and peace.  xo Gigi

5 on 5

Hi, friends!  I've joined up with a wonderful group of photographers to do a monthly 5 on 5 feature. We're sharing our 5 favorite photographs from the previous month on the 5th day of each month.  For me, this was one of the most beautiful Februaries I can ever remember.  Living in Maine, I'm accustomed to harsh, cold weather, towering snowbanks, and intense cabin fever, but we had just a couple of storms, lots of sunshine, and my crocuses even began to bloom by the end of the month, nearly 3 weeks early!  

I took this shot at Marshall Point Lighthouse on the coldest day of the year.  Even though I froze my fingers to take it, the sunlight was glorious, so I didn't mind one bit.

The snow that did fall was of the dreamy, snow-globe variety.  This incredible barn is at Morse's Sauerkraut in Waldoboro.  If you are ever visiting midcoast Maine, a stop at Morse's is a must. 

I tend to take a lot of flower still lifes at this time of year to tide me over until I can be back out in the garden.  Tulips and sunlight get me through to the end of March.

I had the tremendous joy and honor of taking the photo for the cover of a dear friend's new book.  I took a gazillion shots, including a few of the crinoline I wore beneath my wedding gown over twenty years ago.  I was taking shots of vintage dresses, and I realized that this sweet petticoat pretty much qualifies as vintage now.  Yup, we've been married a long time!  I will share the final book cover as soon as the book is published.

And here's a wee bit of color for the final shot.  I bought some very inexpensive lilies at Trader Joe's, and they've been lovely models for going on two weeks now.  

I'm thrilled to be sharing in 5 on 5.  If you'd like to see more, click on this link to my friend Stephanie's wonderful blog.  Thanks for stopping by, lovelies!

What's Inspiring You?

See that light shining through the cheesecloth in the back of this shot?  That's honest-to-goodness sunlight!  Yes!  Daylight savings did not disappoint.  I was able to set up and take many, many still life shots all Sunday afternoon while the sun poured in through this upstairs southwest window. This particular photo is for a backlit assignment in Kim Klassen's Be Still--52 class.

I want thank the many folks who tried my lemon cookie recipe over the weekend!  I received loads of notes on Facebook and Instagram, comments here on the blog, and emails and texts about the cookies.  I'm so glad that you all love them as much as I do!  They are about as easy to make as cookies get, and the taste payoff is extraordinary.  I even saw photos of some other people's cookies, and they were gorgeous!  Nothing like bonding over baked goods.  It truly takes a village to bake a biscuit.

I'll have more recipes very soon.  In the meantime, I wanted to share a few inspiring links:

~Click--A print and digital magazine by photographers for photographers.  These women make a seriously gorgeous product.  Plus, they're running a fun photography contest from now until April 15.  Get clicking!

~Sarah Raven--This is a link to her YouTube channel.  I learn so much from her gardening videos.  Champion of heirloom varieties, she is a gardening goddess . . . and a brilliant teacher.  Plus, just getting to peek at the grounds of her farm makes me want to try new ideas in my own little piece of earth.  

~Thomas McGuane--This link will lead you to an NPR interview with Montana writer Tom McGuane.  Mr. Magpie heard the interview yesterday, told me about it over a quick lunch at Becky's Diner today, and I've just been listening to it and reading the transcript tonight.  It's definitely a worthwhile listen, especially for fellow readers and writers.  "I think there's only one interesting story," says McGuane, ". . . and that's struggle."  I have to say, after years of writing and teaching writing, I agree.

If you have a moment, let me know what's inspiring you this week.  I'd love to hear what you're up to.  

Hope and the Garden

Happy March, my friends!  For all my moaning about this winter (it turns out this has been the coldest February on record in Portland, Maine, and among the snowiest winters), I do love the light in March.  It gives me hope, and hope makes me dream about my garden.

I have ordered my flower seeds from Johnny's, as I plan to grow a cutting garden in one of the raised beds this year.  It will have as many zinnias as I can fit in shades of salmon pink, raspberry, and charteuse, as well as cosmos, nigellas, and so many other beauties. 

Right now, those beds are so deeply buried that they don't even make mounds in the snow, but I know they are there, waiting.  And the roses and lavender and black-eyed Susans in the perennial beds are, too.  

And then there are the hydrangeas.  I have lots and lots of them all around the gardens, and I cut loads of blooms to dry for the winter.  They keep me going until the first crocuses and snowdrops appear where I planted them in the grass.  Most years those early bulbs begin to bloom in mid to late March here in coastal Maine, but I think it will be April this year.  Spring will be short, but with all this snow, the ground will be wet, too, which means it will likely be lush.

I've got lots of veggies in mind.  I always grow tomatoes, lettuces, runner beans, radishes, peas, and lots of herbs.  This year I think I'm going to grow potatoes, too.  Let me know what else you think I should try.  What have you had good luck growing?

I'm thinking of you all and wondering how you're faring.  For those of you in the Northern Hemisphere who are at the tail end of winter, have you started planning your gardening season yet?  I'd love to hear what you'll be planting.  I'm also curious about when the growing season actually begins for you.  I think here in Maine we're kind of towards the extreme end of things in that our winters are long and very cold and our growing season is very short.  I'm always amazed by how much we actually get to grow in about half a year's time!  And, yes, for those who have asked me in past posts or on Instagram, yes, I would LOVE to have a greenhouse.  Maybe some year soon I'll have one.  Anything to give me more time with the plants. 

In the meantime, I'm loving the sunlight and the little spark of hope it lights in me for another season of green.

xo Gigi

P.S. Last week The Magpie's Fancy passed its 6-year mark.  I can hardly believe I've been blogging here for all these years.  Thank you for making it such a joy.

Think Spring

Wherever you are, I hope you are warm and that soothing rays of sunlight are shining down upon you. Our reality here in Maine right now is the picture above.  And more snow is headed our way tonight.  

I say, screw reality.  

I'm about ready for mojitos, crocuses, open-toed shoes (or just shoes of any kind that are not fleece-lined, waterproofed, and lug-soled) and the sight of green, green grass.  Since I can't have any of those, I'm indulging in retail therapy and food therapy both, and I don't feel the least bit guilty. If you feel like indulging along with me, click on the links in the captions to visit the sites where I found these lovely images.   

Isn't it time for some flowers and bunnies, and maybe a recipe involving eggs and lemons and fresh herbs?  

Tulip Magnolia Branches and Hungarian Storage Jars from Terrain

Little Hopper Taper Holder from Anthropologie

Bunny Cupcake Stand from Pottery Barn

Bluebird Eau de Parfum from Olivine Atelier

Okay, so the perfume is maybe more summer than spring, but as we hit record-breaking cold temperatures here in Maine this week, I think a little summer would be perfect about now, too.

Spaghetti Pangrattato with Crispy Eggs from Smitten Kitchen

I'm going to make this recipe tomorrow for dinner.  Tonight I'm making blood orange and fennel salad. The theme for me until the snow melts is sunshine in a bowl.

Sending love your way . . .

xo Gigi

Beautiful, Delicious, and Funny Things

Hello, my chickadees!  I'm not gonna lie.  This winter is turning out to be one for the books.  Any of you who live here in the Northeastern corner of the US know exactly what I'm talking about.  This photo is one I took of the banks of the Fore River on a day when the temperatures were below zero degrees Fahrenheit and we had fifty mph wind gusts.  I processed the shot after the fact to make it feel more like a painting than a photo, but the blustery snow was very real.  Today, Mr. Magpie is down at his job in Lowell, Massachusetts, a place which currently bears the dubious honor of being the snowiest city in America, with 111" so far this year.  Here in Portland we're expecting a few more inches tonight.  I think we could deal with the snowbanks over our heads if it weren't for the bitter cold.  

For kicks, you can compare this photo of our house with the one a couple of posts ago.  We've had more snow since this shot, but we've raked as much of it as possible off the roof and broken as many of the icicle-daggers as we could.  When I look back over my gardening calendar of the last two years, I realize that we had our first crocuses in the back yard by mid March both years.  I highly doubt that will be the case this year, a fact which, if I were a pessimist, would make me very bitter, indeed.  Instead, I've decided to look on the bright side.  All this snow means my perennials are under a thick blanket of warm insulation during all this cold weather, so even my roses and lavender should be fine when spring finally does arrive in July.  Just kidding.  June.  It will be here in June.

Our backyard during a storm

As usual when the weather is this intense and we're all feeling a little stir crazy, I've been seeking inspiration everywhere I can.  I thought I'd share with you a few recent glimmers of beauty, inspiration, and/or joy.  My brother Mark once posed the following questions to me about the things we encounter in life: "Is it beautiful?  Is it delicious?  Does it make me laugh?" he asked.  He then went on to say that  if it doesn't meet one or more of those three criteria, he didn't want or need it.  Mark is one of the smartest and funniest people I know, and I've used his three questions many times since to help myself decide about making purchases, selecting films to watch, books to read, or even to make bigger life choices.  Somehow, many choices do boil down to these categories for me, especially since I think beauty can be found in a well-told story, a smart turn of phrase, a kind gesture, or the accomplishment of even the smallest of goals. 

So, in true magpie fashion, I offer this list, in no particular order, of a few beautiful, delicious, and funny things:

~ This story told by Bill Murray about Gilda Radner.

~ This recipe for Dorie Greenspan's chocolate World Peace Cookies 

~ This bike trainer, which I truly believe is the only thing that is keeping Mr. Magpie and me at all fit or at all sane this winter--and sanity is a very beautiful thing, indeed . . . as are muscles.  :)

~ This baking show, which satisfies my love of baking, my Anglophile tendencies, and, since its a competition, is the closest thing to watching sports on TV that I will ever willingly do.  In fact, I don't have TV.  I watch this on my MacBook.  I also watch The Great Allotment Challenge on YouTube, for all of the above reasons except baking.  Just replace that with gardening, and there you have it. 

~This mystery show.  More Anglophile tendencies catered to quite happily.  Plus mysteries to solve--yes!  Plus there's Robson Green and James Norton to watch.  A beautiful addiction.

~This book by Nancy Marie Brown about a Viking woman who sailed off the edge of the known world five hundred years before Columbus.  Fascinating and well written. 

And finally, just thought I'd add the latest issue of Artful Blogging to the list.  I have a little bit of writing and a photo featured in the Blogging Buzz section this time around, but I'd say take a peek for all the other gorgeous inspiration inside.  

I hope you are faring well, my friends.  As always, you can find me on Instagram and Pinterest, as well as those other crazy social media platforms listed along the right side of the blog.  Just click on the icons to pop over for a visit.  I'm now on Twitter, too, so if you are as well, please be sure to connect with me.  I love staying in touch with you.    

Still Life and Valentine Inspiration

Seventy inches of snow have fallen so far this winter, and more is on the way.  Outside, the feeders and platforms in our yard are crowded with guests.  Inside, everyone seems ready for a respite from the storms.  I've been shooting still life photos like crazy, getting the most that I can from the stark and evocative winter light.  

In the late afternoon, I'm loving the light coming through the southwest windows of the living room.  In the above shot, I'm looking down on a bouquet of wax flowers (Trader Joe's for $2.99, thank you very much).  In the background is the very chippy, distressed top of my favorite little antique cupboard.  This shot has been processed A LOT, with many layers of textures, etc. 

The walls in our living room are painted in Benjamin Moore Palladian Blue, which I know is a trendy color these days, and I think the reason why is because while it is blue, it functions much like a neutral. It has a good bit of green and grey in it, and it shifts all day long, never staying any one color.  It reminds me of sea glass most days, and it also makes a pretty wonderful backdrop for many colors, especially golds, browns, ivories, and burgundy reds.

Another favorite still life spot is beside the window in my study, which is a rather dark, northeast facing room.  This makes the quality of light that streams in perfect for darker, contemplative shots. That's where I took the pear still lifes a few weeks ago, and it's where I got the shots above and below.  The hydrangea above is on my very beat up wooden floor.  I've removed a lot of the saturation out of this shot to let the eye focus more on the light and shadow.  This is the same dried hydrangea that you see in the shot against the Palladian Blue wall, but here, I think it takes on a decidedly more moody quality.

The shot above was also taken in my study.  I've included a picture of the setting below, so you can get a sense of how I work.  I've set up a vintage, handmade boat-shaped box as a kind of makeshift shadow box for creating vignettes to shoot.  If I lean it on a table against the closed bathroom door (don't worry, there's another bathroom downstairs!) I get great light coming in from the side, and I really love side-lit still lifes.  Open, the box gives me a great dark back drop.  Closed, I get a chippy white and dreamy backdrop, complete with cracks and nail holes.  Love.  

I started this blog six years ago this month (I can hardly believe it's been that long), and I named it The Magpie's Fancy because I am an avid collector of bits and pieces of things that shine, either literally or figuratively--or both.  In fact, purely by coincidence (truly--I just realized it as I was typing this), the little map pins that are in the bottle photo above are the very same pins that appear in the very first post I ever published.  Still life photography is one of my favorite ways to put my collecting habit to good use.

I hope you are well, chickadees!  I've got loads to share, including this here little bit of Valentine inspiration from Terrain.  More soon!  xo Gigi

Storm Watch(es) . . . and Catching Up with You

Before the big snows came.

Like so many others, we've been hunkering down, stocking up, and shoveling out an awful lot over the past week.  More snow is on the way Monday, which is fine by us.  We'll put another log on the fire. 

I grabbed the above shot out my study window during the "Great Blizzard of 2015."  We only received about 22 inches--much less than some folks south of us.  Then a second, smaller storm blew in on Friday.  I think we're up to about 30 inches, which translates into snowbanks up to my shoulders.  This time Monday they will be well above my head! 

I took a break from shoveling on Monday to take a few quickies of the garden with my iPhone.  I especially love the bits of sprigs and twigs that seem so delicate, yet don't break, even under two or three feet of snow.

Mr. Magpie shared a fantastic piece with me from the Boston Globe about "Snow Removal Types."  It had us giggling, as we know people who fit nearly every category of snow shoveler listed here.  Mr. M. is definitely "The Incrementalist," so, during a heavy storm, we tend to head out every two to three hours to do another pass over the drive and walkway.  At the time I shot this photo, at least 12 inches had already fallen.  Notice the nearly clear front porch?  That's the work of the Incrementalist.  ;)   

Maybe the best part about the snow has been that we've been able to get out to do some incredible snowshoeing.  The days in between storms have boasted gloriously blue skies like the one above, and very little wind.

We watched a documentary the other night about some folks who walked the John Muir Trail in California.  Sprinkled throughout the film are quotes from the man himself, and one in particular that I had forgotten about (although how I do not know) struck a chord with me: "When one tugs at a single thing in nature, he finds it attached to the rest of the world."  

Trudging out onto the salt marshes of Maine Audubon at Gilsland Farm, those words echoed in my mind.  Across the Presumpscot River estuary, cars rushed along 295; overhead, the vapor trails of planes crisscrossed the sky; at the edges of the preserve, smoke billowed from the chimneys of the large show homes wealthy folks have built for the glorious views.  None of it stopped us from seeing eyelet-lace rabbit trails in the snow . . . or Eastern bluebirds in the trees that bordered the meadows . . . or the glowing white underside of a gull against the blue as it flew above us.  The human world is so loud and harsh and destructive so much of the time.  I'm grateful for every bit of nature we still have, and I hold onto each piece as tightly as I can.

So, more snow is on the way, which will mean more wintry shots from me, I'm sure.  For those of you shoveling your way through January, February, and March, I hope you're staying as warm and safe as possible, and I also hope that you're getting a chance every day to enjoy a little of the beauty of winter, too.  xo Gigi

Scout and the Meaning of Life

January is a philosophical month for Miss Scout.  

The inhospitable weather has us all cooped up more than usual.  Well, Dill and Scout are indoor sorts of folks, so they're always in the house, but come spring, they do love to laze on their porch with a warm breeze blowing in through the screens, gently ruffling the fur on their bellies.  Scoutie spent this afternoon in the living room, lying in a feeble beam of January sunshine, dreaming of that first April day when we'll throw open the windows to let in the scents of grass and mud and of all the beasties who live outdoors.  

I won't lie.  She's a practical girl at heart.  Hunting is her favorite sport, so it's just as well for all the mice and squirrels and chipmunks and birds that she never leaves her porch.  

Since she's relegated to killing nothing more an occasional spider or whatever crawly things live in the corners of the cellar, she has to find other, more creative, ways to pass the time.  Thus, in addition to dreaming, she has taken up philosophizing.  

Scout eschews ethics, as she most certainly fits Stephen King's categorization of cats as "those amoral gunslingers of the animal world."  Instead, she focuses her very considerable attention (never try to beat her in a staring contest) on matters of ontology.  I hear her sighing often as she ponders the meaning of life.

Tell me, Dill, why are we here?
What's it all for?
What is the purpose of life?

I'm not as sophisticated or deep a thinker as Miss Scout, but at this point, as far as I can tell, she has reached three essential conclusions:

Why are we here?  Treats.
What's it all for?  Cuddles.
What is the purpose of life?  Naps.

Some would say, "Yes, but that doesn't get to the very essence of ontology, Miss Scout.  You aren't asking the most fundamental question: What is existence?  In other words, What does it mean for a being to be?

To such questions, Scout responds by rolling on her back, squinting her eyes, and giving the most inscrutable of smiles.

Such is the mystery of life Scout.

Endings and Beginnings

Thinking of you this New Year's Eve.  I took this photo today on a very cold walk by the water at Gilsand Farm.  I heard the quote earlier in the year, and it has become one of my guiding principles.  

As we head into the new year, I hope you are safe and warm and near someone you love.  I wish you health, along with moments of peace and of joy.  May you find adventure and may you have the strength and support to face whatever challenges come your way.

Thank you, my friend, for visiting The Magpie's Fancy in 2014.  Looking forward to sharing inspiration with you in the coming year!

The Spirit of the Season

Hello, chickadees!  I hope you are having a beautiful weekend.  Here, we've had one of those sunny and crisp days that seem to happen only in December.  Mr. Magpie and I spent the morning at some neighborhood shops, searching out the last few treasures for stockings.  If you live anywhere near the Portland, Maine, area, may I recommend a few shops that I truly and deeply love?  I adore them for the items that they carry as well as for the incredible people who own and/or work at them.  They are a big part of what makes living in Portland a joy for me.  They're also great spots for last-minute holiday shopping . . . and then, after Christmas, they will be the perfect places to visit to find yourself a treat for the new year.  I'm not being paid for these endorsements; I just want to spread the word about these local businesses!  Several of them also have websites where you can order their unique products online.   

• Fiachcre ~ Beautiful gardening tools, unique potted plants, gorgeous terra cotta, soaps and candles, and so much more.  I think Mr. Magpie bought nearly all my Christmas presents here last year!  If you go, please tell Melissa I sent you.
• Portland Trading Company ~ Our good friend Kazeem has made his gorgeous store in the Old Port a true destination for custom-designed clothing, beautiful housewares, and many items that combine luxury and practicality--in other words, perfect gifts.  He also stocks hard-to-find lifestyle magazines and many locally-made goods.  
• The Honey Exchange ~ I never thought I'd shop at a honey store on a regular basis, but this place has so many wonderful products that I stop in often.  This is where I buy all my local honey and so much more, from candles to jewelry to toiletries and even wine and locally-made beer or mead.  They also carry beekeeping supplies. 
• Folly 101 ~ Most of my friends know that I have a bit of an obsession with this place.  If you need a hostess gift, this is the number one place to visit.  Also, if you lean towards Scandinavian decor with lots of white and natural wood, you will love the bright, airy feel of the store itself.  I feel at home as soon as I walk in the door.
• Treehouse Toys ~ This is the only toy store I go to, because it is always my first stop, and I always find the perfect gifts for little ones here.  I also don't want to leave once I'm inside.  It's a pretty magical place.
• Kurier ~ Beautiful handmade bags and accessories.  I love her designs and colors, as well as her ethos.  She also has an Etsy shop.
• Papier ~ Exquisite paper, stationery, pens, and cards.  This shop is my idea of heaven.  And now they also carry stunning fresh flowers and arrangements with Fleuriste.  Todd and I are regular customers here, and I can't speak highly enough about their excellent customer service.

These are just a few of my favorites.  I love getting the chance to share them here on the blog.  

I bought the lovely little fern and my paper white bulbs at Fiachre.

I'm nearly done with Christmas shopping and crafting; I've sent the packages and all but the last few cards; the guest room has been taken over by boxes and tissues and ribbons; the rest of the house is as decorated as it's going to get; tomorrow I begin my baking.  In other words, we are in full holiday mode around here.  I don't feel frenzied, though--just lucky that I'll get to see family and friends over Christmas and into the New Year.  

I'll be thinking of you tomorrow as we celebrate the solstice and begin the climb back to longer days.  I hope you are well and that each day brings you moments of joy and of peace as we head into the new year together.  

Wild Mind

Remember the baker's twine I mentioned at Thanksgiving?  Well, here's mine in the photo above, and as you can see, it's still at loose ends.  That's fine with me.  Nothing is done or nearly done on my list, and yet I took time today to take and process photos.  It felt good to set up shots, think about light and mood and cropping.  I didn't have room in my head for worry.  I was in my working wild mind.  I go there for photos and for writing; I don't let anything in the outside world touch that part of me.  It's too precious.  You know when people ask what you'd grab first in the case of a house fire?  Besides the kitties and Mr. Magpie, I'd be happy if my body and my wild mind made it out intact.  

It's not exactly my brain that I mean.  My brain's part of it, I suppose, but it's my gut, too, and probably my heart.  And other parts I can't define.  I don't talk about this with many people--just the writers that I help to craft their poems and stories and letters and thoughts, and the people closest to me, the ones who don't mind when I get that absent look on my face in the middle of supper or someone's birthday party right when it's time for candles and cake.  I don't mean to be antisocial or rude.  It just happens.  I smell the scent of cinnamon or catch a glimpse of a book on a shelf that I read in 1982, and I'm gone . . . back to my wild mind for however long it takes.  I'm sharing this with you because I know you get it.  You go there, too, I bet.  You call it something different, but you can't imagine living without it, and that is why we've found each other. 

Home for the Holidays . . . and All Year Long

Hellebores on my father's antique desk in the dining room.  

I've been wanting to write an update about our house all fall, and I'm finally getting to it now, at the very time that Compass is running a series called Starter Stories, featuring bloggers posting about their first apartments, their starter homes, or the homes that gave them a fresh start.  Urban Compass is a very user-friendly real estate platform that connects folks looking for apartments in NYC with neighborhoods that suit their personality and preferences.   

The side table at night in the dining room this past fall.  

I'll share a photo later this week of it with the manger for Christmas.  

I'm excited to participate in the series, since we've lived in seven apartments, one loft condo, and three houses over the twenty-four years that we've been together, and I know a thing or two about the challenges and rewards of finding just the right place to call home--whether it's your first place or your eleventh!  And while this wee cottage is far from our starter home, it has definitely been our start-over home.  

Old books find their way into every room in the house.

As I've written about before, I believe that a place can save you, if you let it.  Mr. Magpie and I moved back here to Portland, Maine, after two decades of school and jobs had carried us off to distant places.  Returning to the city where we first met was probably the most important decision we've ever made for ourselves as individuals and as a couple.  We'd gone through a heartbreaking time in our lives, and we desperately needed to move and start fresh.  But we couldn't just sell our loft condo in Massachusetts, buy a house here in Maine, and be done with it.  The recession had dropped to its lowest point, and our condo's mortgage was under water.  Selling wasn't an option. So, like many other folks at the time, we rented the condo out to tenants, and then became tenants again ourselves.  After several years of being homeowners, it was a bit of an adjustment, but a necessary one if we wanted to live in Maine.

An autumn vignette in the living room

We rented here in Portland for a couple of years, saving our pennies and biding our time until we were finally able to buy our home in the summer of 2012.  It was actually a more exciting day to me than the day we bought our first home.  As some longtime readers know, during the first month after we moved in, we set to work right away, making this place our own.  One of the first things we did was to paint the rooms in shades inspired by the Maine coast.  In the two years since then we have expanded the gardens outside each summer, turning them into tumbling, colorful cottage gardens.

The Hobbit Garden in midsummer, with phlox, bee balm, Abraham Darby roses, lavender, salvia, and petunias blooming.

Scarlet runner beans and nasturtiums at the back door.  In the foreground is a Bridal veil spirea.

Looking from the spot where the Hobbit Garden (named for its curving wattle fence) transitions into the little woodland garden.  On the other side of the fence are our herb gardens and the patio.  The wild looking arbor is made from branches and this past summer it was covered in scarlet runner beans and sweet peas.

One corner of the herb garden ( taken in Fall 2013, while we were building the arbor)

As much as I love the gardens, I find myself also loving winter hibernation in this house.  The Christmas season never fails to stir the most domestic of feelings in my magpie heart.  As soon as the first snowflakes fall, I'm lighting a fire in the fireplace, baking shortbread, and stringing fairy lights in nearly every room.  I can't help myself.  

Christmas 2012

Our bedroom/sleeping loft

A few days ago we made our now annual trek to a local tree farm to cut down the Christmas tree. It was a blustery, frigid afternoon, and the muddy pathways between the trees were coated with a sheer slick of ice, so it was tricky to even get to the trees, let alone saw one down, but we managed, bringing home a smaller one than usual to fit into one corner of the living room.  

Late afternoon at Staples Tree Farm

I've also draped the mantle with fresh greens from the trees in our yard, tucking in pinecones that I've iced with silver glitter as well as the bird nests I've found on the ground over the last couple of autumns.  Our yard is home to many birds, squirrels, chipmunks, and other wild beasties, and we feed them seeds and water year round.  For Mr. Magpie and me, our home wouldn't be complete without the wild creatures outside as well as the wild ones inside (Scout and Dill, our tuxedo cats). 

A closeup of one of the nests on this year's holiday mantle.  I'll have more photos of the whole mantle and other decorations soon!

The kitchen windowsill at suppertime with a string of fabulous Starry Starry Lights

The tree is now up and decorated, but I've still got work to do.  There's the manger to finish, and the sparkling winter village.  The ever-thoughtful Mr. Magpie bought extra strings of fairy lights, so you know I'll be plugging them into every available outlet.  I think it's time to play some Christmas CDs and mull some apple cider.  The holidays equal home for me, and this year more than ever, I'll be grateful to start a new year in our little white cape beneath the great white pine.