For the French girl or boy in you. Make a simple room diffuser. Choose a bottle or jar. Cut a few rose canes- it’s the perfect time to prune. Add condensed rose water to the bottle and several drops of rose essential oil. Wine and Baudelaire. ― “It is the time you have wasted for your rose that makes your rose so important.” ― Antoine de … Read More aliceandmolly home
Nature creates her own stories~Paeonia loves Apollo. Bashful, shabby, beautiful.
She wasn’t just any rose, She was the whole damn garden Yet, you couldn’t see past her thorns. Patient, she waited for you to notice Her love- abundant. In sunshine, she bloomed In rain, she folded herself Her scent drove you mad Crushed, she oozed hot-sweet pleasure Green tea and lemons, A spoonful of honey. Her touch, intoxicating Soft as velvet, artful You swore … Read More Damask
I believe in miracles The unseen hand of divine agency, manifesting hope of extraordinary wonder This is why I believe I’ll find you again Against all odds Standing outside a doorway or inside a crowded coffee shop You’ll smile and say, ‘What took so long?’ And that will be it. I will be home.
~an excerpt Bing’s Palace 1963 Birdie unsnapped the clasp of her sequined clutch, reached within the satin folds and pulled out an ebony compact and a tube of lipstick. She appeared oblivious to his insults and her surroundings. Her mister had forgotten her, therefore, she’d remind him. Snapping open the compact case, she gazed at her reflection in the mirror. With stealth precision she … Read More Miss Birdie
The men nodded as Roy and Rummy approached, extended their hands, one by one, shook. Rummy leaned in to peck a kiss upon Birdie’s rouged cheek. Roy did likewise. He felt Birdie’s body still, sensed her linger. “Who’s the little lady?” The boss met Rummy’s glance and demanded an answer. Before Rummy could speak, Birdie hopped up and took Annie’s hand. “Slide over, Jimmy. … Read More Bing’s Palace~ 1963
Wide eyes drew me in. Eyes the colour of sea glass and molten gold set down by a painter’s touch. I coveted her story, listened within silence. I studied her eyes, eyes that appeared to see beyond the realm of ordinary, sensed her bewilderment. A glance as if asking: why is it that others can’t see how light casts shadow, how waves kiss the … Read More Eleanor