“I De Endoe”

“I de endoe..”

~Richard & Paula, Best Friends

“I used to think a wedding was a simple affair. Boy and girl meet, they fall in love, he buys a ring, she buys a dress, they say I do. I was wrong. That’s getting married. A wedding is an entirely different proposition.”

~George Banks, Father of the Bride

Once Upon a Time… a girl met a boy at a high school football game. Sitting on the concrete bleachers of Kiggins

Bowl, chatting with friends more than watching the game—a mutual friend introduced them. He was full of

enthusiasm about his Student Exchange time, having just returned from Japan. At 15 she had a quiet personality and

was a good listener. It was complicated 6 months between that simple introduction and their first date. The

devastating loss of Pam’s father that winter wrote a new chapter for her family.

The following summer Pam agreed to Mark’s invitation to a date—a movie. The subplot had its twists & turns as Mark

went off to university and Pam to art school. This young couple coordinated calls to the fraternity and letters through

the mail. Following graduations they both took their first professional jobs. Six years to the day of their first date they

married. A story befitting a screenplay—high school sweethearts turned into married couple.

“This is true love. You think this happens every day?”

~Westley, the Princess Bride

“June Brides” was always a traditional nod to kicking off wedding season.
Although weddings have now stretched earlier into the spring on one end of the calendar, and lingering into fall with its crisp autumnal afternoons.

“When you realize you want to spend the rest of your life with somebody, you want the rest of your life to start as soon as possible.”

~Harry Burns, When Harry Met Sally

It’s been many years since Mark & I celebrated on our wedding day. A drizzly day like today as I write this. But a

shinning reflection of our commitment to sharing our lives together. Like most brides I had a vision of what our day

would look like. Storied & Classic Romance. I had discovered a local seamstress who created wedding gowns from

traditional vintage patterns, fabric & trims. Victorian was what I envisioned and the moment I put it on it was perfect.

Vintage cotton lawn, eyelet lace & the tiniest pin tucks. Similar to the antique photo I had of a two times great aunt’s

wedding day. A laughable moment happened the day I picked up my dress after alterations, I tossed my keys into the

car after carefully placing my dress and promptly locked my keys in the car.

Timeless decisions like Victorian posed photos, a string quartet playing Pachelbel’s Canon in D, my own designs of

dried flowers in baskets & wild sweet peas tangled around wreaths (I snipped on our wedding morning), and ribbon

rounds I made to hang from the ceiling at the Academy Ballroom. All were the back drop visually to what was a

personal wedding. Mark’s lifelong friends from his fraternity were his groomsmen. I fondly remember my friend Alison,

a bridesmaid, who has since passed. Our Flower Girl & Ring bearer who years later both married at Belle Flower

Farm. My brother walked me down the aisle, and I stopped at my mother’s side. I handed her a petite posey I made

of Forget-Me-Nots in memory of my father. And Pastor Brassard not quite sure how to announce us married, “Mark

Curtis & Pam Richey Curtis—(pause)—married.”

“People call these things imperfections, but they are not, aw, that’s the good stuff. And then we get to choose who we let into our little weird worlds.”

~Dr. Sean Maguire, Good Will Hunting

Cheers to all the couples telling their story this Wedding Season!

To Travel or Not to Travel— That is the Question.

“Many a trip continues long after movement in time and space have ceased.”

~John Steinbeck

Spring Break this year consisted of not venturing much farther than our BFF gardens. I blocked off several days on our calendar and began the process of grounding myself in our gardens. Digging out from To Do Lists & distractions, my intensions this year was to weed, prune, weed, plant, weed, spread compost and connect with all of my friends in the garden.

I am reminded of Spring Breaks from the past with a school age family. I would pack up kids, dogs, food & toys and head to the coast. Connecting with friends during the week & joined by Mark on the weekend. Endless hours digging in the sand, visits to the arcade & Mario Bros.

“Wherever you go,

go with all your heart.”

~Confucius

Last April, I planned a trip to NYC for Mark & I. Heartfelt choices of museums, Central Park, plays, restaurants, walking & exploring. Sitting in Studio 54 for “Pictures From Home”. Happening upon a  French bakery with the most amazing gf cream puffs & Happy Hour at The Plaza were memorable life moments.

“All journeys have secret destinations of which the traveler is unaware.”

~Martin Buber

The Dutch are my people—not really. But Mark’s & my trip to the Netherlands several springs ago showed me the secret of how gardeners are connected. I explored Amsterdam on my own during the day—museums, shops, photographing architecture. Finding the most quaint neighborhood restaurant where the owner popped in a gluten free cake for our desert. There is no secret for this country’s love of flowers with a flower stand on every corner.

As we caught the train to Leiden, the fields of tulips & daffodils created a mosaic out the window. Our destination was The Keukenhof Garden. My version of Disneyland— tears filled my eyes as we walked through the gate. The seeds of growth came as we explored Des Hague, watched as a young couple married in a historic church, met the most wonderful inn keeper & visited their lush weekly Farmer’s Market, remarking we must come to stay again.

“Every day is a journey, and the journey itself is home.”

~Matsuo Basho

To travel or not to travel. Some springs are meant for exploring-others are for connecting with your home. Both equally important to our growth.

Tickled Pink

“White wrought-iron chairs scattered with blowsy cabbage roses. Robins-egg blue porcelain cake stands, dotted with strawberries as small and red as lipstick kisses. Green stemmed stools with speckled pink seats.”
~Charlotte Silver

Blush, bubblegum, fuchsia, salmon, magenta, mauve, orchid, coral, watermelon—
this is the year of PINK!

“Hi Barbie!”
“Hi Ken!”
~Greta Gerwig

Aside from the attention the Barbie movie shined on the color pink—my personal taste has always leaned to this soft sweet hue. From the pink sweet peas I designed with for our wedding flowers to our custom pink linen slipcover for our cottage sofa. The Cecil Brunner roses clamoring over the arbor to the pink glowing sunsets of summer.

I had joined Mark on a trip to the Netherlands a number of years ago. On my list of springtime adventures for a country known for flowers—the art museums and the public gardens were delightfully on the agenda. One particular day—which happened to be my birthday—I was strolling through the flower market on my own. I spotted one of my favorites. The softest of pink Ranunculus. I quickly purchased them and tucked them into my tote. A sweet self gift that each time is see them now, takes me to that intensional moment.

Our first home was a post WW2 bungalow in the Rosemere neighborhood—now Rose Village. It was a cozy 720 square feet. We set about painting each room, refinishing the hardwood floors, adding wallpaper & refreshing the kitchen. At the time, I was working at Laura Ashley. Their Bloomsbury Collection was perfect for our little bohemian cottage. Our sofa promptly got a new artistic linen slipcover & I painted pink flowers on our kitchen cabinets in the vein of Clive & Vanessa Bell. (Another nod to our name.) Refurbishing the garden I added a favorite pink peony. I subsequently moved the rhizomes to each of our 3 homes. They now joyfully reside in our Belle Flower Farm gardens.

A few of my favorite things that sprinkle pink throughout our farmhouse add joy to entertaining & everyday moments. Favorite pink china pieces include a thumb print tulip vase from my mother’s godmother, Esther. Alice China including pitcher, platter, serving bowl & tea pot collected while working at Laura Ashley. An heirloom mug, 6th generations old from England. And nothing is more welcoming than to set a table with our collection of pink depression glassware & crisp pink cotton & lace table cloth.

Lifestyle favorites include a soft pink wool coat & pink sweaters in my closet, not restricted to only February wear. And a summertime favorite is a cool glass of Trader Joe’s Sparkling Pink Lemonade & rose’ tickles me pink.

“Anything is possible with sunshine and a little pink.”
~Lilly Pulitzer

Ringing in the Year

Introducing Laura Belle & Bellflower

Bellflower (Campanula) This bell shaped beauty boasts enchanting clusters of cottage flowers. The perfect fit to tuck into perennial beds or bouquets. My favorite variety is the sweet Bluebell bellflower. Not only does the bellflower attract pollinators like bees & butterflies, but it also holds the symbolism of gratitude & everlasting love.

Clear as a bell are my childhood memories of Great Grandma’s home & gardens. On Saturdays, my dad would stop by to mow the lawn. That task had become difficult for Laura Belle, but she was determined to continue living in her cottage on 39th Street. A double lot—it was also home to a stand-alone garage and greenhouse. It was a magical place to explore—

The cottage gardens with Rhododendrons large enough to play house under and a manicured path of grass leading to the rose arbor clamoring with an old fashioned red rose (pretending to marry underneath). The specimen Blue Spruce that stood guard next to the driveway. And a greenhouse with decades of pots, watering cans & the occasional discovered creature.

Inside the house—a tall flour bin under the kitchen counter with red bakelite handles (the perfect hiding spot for a young great granddaughter), rows of canned fruits & vegetables leading down to the cellar, the grandfather clock ticking on the mantle in the cozy living room, the player piano at the ready. In the bathroom—the pedestal sink Laura stood in front of each Sunday morning when we picked her up for church. Her wavy grey hair reached nearly to her knees. She had never cut it, only trimmed, and worked each morning to pin it up in a tidy bun. She always finished with a rhinestone studded comb to keep the wisps in check. “Grandma we are here,” I would announce upon entering. “Land sakes alive, child. You startled me,” she would reply.

Laura Belle Livingston was born in Nebraska in 1885. At the age of 25 she married Roy and they eventually settled on a farm in Brush Prairie during the depression. A lover of plants Laura always had a generous vegetable garden along with apple & cherry trees. Then in 1940 Laura & Roy moved their family to their Vancouver home at 412 W. 39th Street. In 1942, they opened a nursery called Highland Florist, which she ran for 15 years. Grandma continued to rise early her entire life, cutting seasonal flowers to create the pulpit bouquet at church. Gladiola, Calla lilies, flowering branches, fern, holly— whatever had been gathered from the garden. Grandma’s independent streak has always spoken to me, as she continued to live alone in her cottage until the age of 94. Passing at an extraordinary 95 years young. “Old cloddy is a comin’”, Laura would say.

Ringing the bell to a new year, I reflect on my own clear chime. Belle Flower Farm is our home and business now. What began as pasture land—there was room for dreams to ring true. Giving our property a proper name was part of the plan for our homestead, which we broke ground for in 2000. Always open to a good play on words—my thought quickly settled on Belle Flower Farm. Creating our own bell choir of memories the hammer continues to strike with a song rooted in childhood observations, raising our family and of creating a home, gardens & business.

Belle Flower Farm—a place of gratitude & everlasting love.

Unwrapping Holiday Memories

The turkey platter is no more washed and placed back in the cabinet than it is time to bring out the holiday decor. Box after marked box, makes its way from the attic where it has spent the past eleven months. We are not alone in this treasured activity. Many years ago, I began organizing our holiday decorations by room. Each box with its label has a tidy assortment of collections of memories wrapped in tissue paper & tagged with its origin.

“Our hearts grow tender with childhood memories and love of kindred, and we are better throughout the year for having, in spirit, become a child again at Christmas time.”

~Laura Ingalls Wilder

I recall my childhood Christmases the moment I unwrap the sweet glass angels with room for candles. They graced many a holiday table. Ceramic Victorian carolers painted by my mother in their unusual 1970s color palette. The set of joyful elves I unwrap each year and place on a stack of holiday books. My mother must have acquired them over 60 years ago, long before the Elf-On-A-Shelf phenomenon. A red felt stocking with “Pam” stitched by my dad’s cousin. (1 for each of the 3 of us). I still can feel the connection with my great grandfather Willie, with his addition of a Silver Dollar each year to its contents of simple treats.

“Family faces are magic mirrors. Looking at people who belong to us, we see the past, present and future.”

~Gail Lumet Buckley

A  number of treasures awaiting their unwrapping are less about my childhood, and more about remembering loved ones. A tiny sweet nativity, made of brown plastic & glitter is one of my most cherished family pieces. Given to me from my Great Aunt Alice, along with 2 porcelain ornaments. I remember her smile & kindness in wanting me to have something of hers. Holiday books over 120 years old from my mothers godfather,  Dr. John, reminding me we were all young once. Postcards addressed to both great grandmothers Laura & Olive, as well as Olive’s sister Raye. Holiday greetings from family far away, delicately written on the backs of the festive cards. I tuck then into nests, garland & amongst bowls of ornaments. Finally, a cherished lamb candle holder from my late friend, Alison. It makes me smile of our innate way of showing up in the same clothes for our lunches or picking up the phone to call each other at the same moment—it connecting without ringing.

“What is Christmas?
It is the tenderness of the past, courage for the present and hope for the future.”

~Agnes M. Pahro

A final collection of treasures are from my own sons childhood. The tiny clay snowman, pictures with Santa, the holiday plate & mug that held the Christmas Eve gift to Santa in the form of cookies, milk & carrots, holiday children’s books, and handmade ornaments—stars, snowflakes, trees, tiny hand impressions. The addition of ornaments collected from our trips, excursions & hobbies along the way—seeing the years unfold with each unwrapping—from Whidbey Is. to The Netherlands, New Orleans to DC, Chicago to Italy & everything in between. A time of late nights, secret wrapping sessions & tag decoding hints, Santa visits, Christmas light excursions, cooking, baking & matching pjs. The tenderness of the past comes flooding back & our new celebrations settle in that include puppy stockings, festive holiday parties & community service.

For me this is my Christmas morning. As I remove the tissue from each cherish object. It is the gift of seeing the faces of loved ones, of a young family & my own journey.