on the nature of travel and the romance in stamps.

hiya, here i am again.

how are you? 

big plans for the weekend?

in my usual fashion,

i've been daydreaming about travel.

thinking about the little

things we pick up along the way.

and too,
about the small mementos

we send through the post.

the tangible and not.

the letters and stamps and subway tickets.

the train rides

and bus trips and

new-to-you mountain vistas.

the wine and the food and the bottles of beer.

the smell of bread,

fresh to the corner shop,

and equally so, 
the brasserie just down the way.

the things you've saved

and the places you've tucked them away.

a napkin from a restaurant where you thought you fell in love.

a cork from that night, 

you laughed and laughed.

a tag from a dress you couldn't live without.

a pen from the post office

where you dropped a stack of cards.

and the smell of a market when you get there early.

the perfection of a raisin danish,
its custard centre

aside the best cappuccino 
you've had in five years.

and a paper menu 
from a restaurant you'd only dreamt of visiting.

i love the romance in sending notes by mail.

layers of letters, and feelings, and words

all wrapped in crisp white paper.

stuck together with a tiny dot of glue
and a small stamp.

and i love the

the smirk on your face

some weeks after a trip,

when you reach for your keys

and turn up a mint.

and when you recall,

the company you kept,

the champagne you drank,

and the table

you liked so much.

i find pleasure in the littlest things.

the ephemeral nature of travel,

but the staying power of its remembrance.

it's like crackers and cheese,

and cake and champagne,

the two just go together.

come on august,

i'm kind of chomping at the bit here.

happy weekend y'all.

i'll eat a slice of cake on your behalf.

xox, n.

+ 

things friends have sent:

bright rays of sunshine. (via)

and a st. valentine's wish.

love the both.

__

[in hg news]

leftover from yesterday:

one, two, three, 

four, five, six.

and a very 

limited number of cloud marshmallows.

___

on whimsical and childlike.

hi!

how's this week in february?

things are good on my side.

i've been thinking about the little things,

about how i love that 
the good things are nestled in the details.

a perfectly cooked egg,
a cup of coffee brewed just right,
a french canelé baked in the traditional style,
the dark and almost black of its edges.
the soft and airy of its centre. 



the satisfaction of cooking for friends.
the excitement of telling a secret.
and the anticipation of stepping off a plane.




the amazing feeling of a good nights sleep.
and equally so, the feeling of waking happy.






+

the realization that you really are, a child at heart

because, the way the arms of the world tick, 
still amaze you.

  truth is,

i still think it's magic when it snows.

it never tires on me,

first or fifty-first. never ever.

the flawless bits of shiny cold,

the flutter of the winter air.

it all brings the little out in me.

that small kid with 
bendy pigtails and wiggly teeth.

i remember my first snowfall at ten

and riding a horse for the first time on my own.

i remember the glimmer of my horse's eye,

and the whimsy in her gate.

i remember the nights the tooth fairy came.

and i remember asking for licorice 
at the corner shop.

i remember the time i first saw a seed sprout.

and the first time i saw a chick peck 
its small beak through the porcelain of its shell.

i remember the first time i learned you could add dye

to the water of a vase of flowers
and have the light yellow of daffodils
turn just slightly stripey pink.






i remember the first time i saw a birth.
the tiny head of a calf struggling to enter the world.
determined and energetic.
and walking just a few seconds later.

my memories,
whimsical and childlike.
bits of feeling

stuck in the details.


















let's chat again soon.
happy wednesday all.
xox, n.












+






snow and all, i'm waiting on spring.


this looks excellent to me. in fact i've ordered two. 
one for me and one for my deserving dad. (via)
i love a proper story about people doing the things they love.






and i made the flags,
but jen made the ribbony bits. 
thanks jen, i love the coffee filter flutter.




and a new recipe soon,
the twenty second day of february
to be exact.
the buttons are back here.

on icing cakes and meeting boys.

hello!
happy new week.
i think we're in for a good one.
how about you, what do you think?






+
a few words on cake:


i worked in a grocery shop years ago.

it kept my hands busy, 
my apron dirty and tummy full.

i learned to use a cash register,

and more importantly,
turntable assisted, i learned to ice a cake.

chocolate and vanilla.

cream cheese frosting 
and sponges filled with carrot.

it was, at the time
a bit of perfection 
for my 18 year old self.





i iced cakes one minute 
and chatted with passersby the next.
i handed cookies to children,
stretching over-top the tall bakery counter.
and i so loved it there.

i moved on though,
i suppose in a way i began my ascent to adulthood.

 i went to school for patisserie.
and in hindsight it was there
i learned to ice a cake.

my teacher, an alsactian man,

his accent thick, 
a heavy dose of both german and french. 
his smile broad. 
his words often incomprehensible to me.

his disposition kind, but his temper absolute.
let's just say he wasn't the type 
a girl should get tears in front of.
[a little tidbit i learned straight away]

he taught me many things
among which, was how really, to ice a cake.

he showed me that
one needs just to use their hands.
no turntables, no funny inventions.

cake in the left,
metal spatula in the right.

we used a turntable some days.
for the the swoop of royal icing 
or the application of fondant.

or even sometimes for the finicky bits 
of placing flowers just so.

most times though, 
the tall sides  of soft centres and soaked sponge,

that was all by hand.

there wasn't choice in his books.

i cursed him under my breathe for it.

but, i'm so happy for it now.

he taught me 
the worth of a pound of butter

and the beauty in a slicing a cake just so.

he taught me the versatility in an almond

and equally so, 
the often glazed over complexities of an egg.

he taught me to blow peaches from sugar.

to craft roses from marzipan.

he taught me to keep my hands steady.

a steady hand, a steady heart.

he taught me when to use a wooden spoon

and when not, a spatula.

he taught me 
to relish in doing what i love,
and to embrace it with every bit of me.

he taught me of
drive and determination
and of giving back.
and he told me

not to fall in love too early.

i love that part. the love bit.

he said,

don't fall for boys, 
they're just a big distraction.

wait until you've got the time,
the right one will come then.

don't rush it nikole,

you've got your whole life ahead.

my point in all this?

those days he said that to me, he was right.
i didn't see it then,
but, i see it now.

things come in due time.
it's as clear as a bell now
and there's comfort in that.

happy day friends.

i'm so glad you stopped in.

hope your week is jolly.

xox, n.

___

and a few other things:

+ my love for cake, just the same now. 

+ i did a shop update yesterday, whoa! thanks all.

there is just two one spoon left
my favorite, japanese maple!
and old-growth teak.

+ there are enough cloud marshmallows to go around.

+ my linens. bfgs. love.

+ missed it, join our list.

+ previously sold on hg? a list of sorts.

+ puppy love.  hello gus. you're really cute.
and hello little friend, you're really cute too. 

___