THREE FOR THE END OF FEBRUARY

A leather, cotton cord, silk and amethyst necklace with vintage brass components by Kathryn of The Vamoose, who is always making such beautiful things // Chrysanthemums by Henri Fantin-Latour, 1871 found on Kathryn's tumblr // My favorite bedazzled hat in a patch of pale afternoon sun

February is just about my least favorite month (second only to March, ha!), but this one wasn't all bad, not by a long shot. Still, I'm thinking I may need to harness some crystal energy ala William Eadon to get me through the next several rainy, frustrating weeks as we battle our way towards Spring. Maybe I'll start here.

BE MINE

Today, my two better halves are far, far away (and without both my halves, where does that leave me??) Alex said "hajimemashite!" to Tokyo yesterday morning, and as I type this I imagine Dagmar is snug in her little cabin with a big ginger cat named Kingston and Berserker the attack rabbit curled up at her feet.

Dag's visits to New York are few and far between, and usually end in her vowing never ever to return. Which I can respect. But this past fall we spent a giddy afternoon at the Met, wandering sleepy eyed and soft-footed from room to room until, fifteen minutes before closing, we burst back outside into reality and the rose-gold rays of late October sunshine. Last year I spent Valentine's Day getting tipsy on Champagne and then grinning my way sheepishly through a guided tour of Picasso's sculpture at the MoMa. This year I'd be happy to settle for a waterglass of Gato Negro with my dude, my lady, and me.

MR. MARVINLOUS

The last day I accomplished anything truly productive was January 24th; I know, it's on my Google calendar. Since then, my general life/work trajectory has settled gradually into something of a flat line. These short but sunny days, half of me wants nothing more than to run away back West. The other half, however, understands that I have no realistic choice but to drag myself forward, into the bright and hideous future, one sorry step at a time.

The handsome gentleman in these photos? Meet Marvin. He showed up one frosty evening under the front porch of my parents' house, yowling and hungry and playing shy guy. Eventually I coaxed him inside and upstairs, where he became a welcome fixture amongst pale sunlight poking through dark trees, grimy paperbacks and cups of spicy tea. Another thing I've been feeling a lot lately is that life is barely worth living without out a cat, which from what I understand is how I'm meant to feel about making babies, but, well, there you have it.

DANSK

At long last, the final set of photos from Europe this summer. We began our stay in Denmark with a club show somewhere in Copenhagen, but had to make a dash the next morning to Jutland and Thisted for a festival. I wish we could have stayed there longer, as it seemed like a truly beautiful, wild stretch of country, but again it was up with the sun (and the most breathtaking sunrise) and another mad drive back to the Copenhagen airport, where everyone said their goodbyes.

Alex and I had decided to stay in Copenhagen at tour's end on our own for an extra three days. Instead of trying to book a budget hotel or stay in a hostel to save money, we found an amazing little studio apartment to rent on visitcopenhagen.com. For the price of a barebones hotel room with a shared bathroom, we had our own little kitchen and bedroom with private bath, and the keys to a beautiful old apartment complex on Sankt Peders Straede, in the Latin Quarter on the edge of the old town Indre By.

For three days we walked and walked, down winding streets, over bridges and through alleyways, in and out of impeccably curated boutiques filled with Acne and Henrik Vibskov, across cobblestone squares and always, always with an ear and an eye out for swiftly approaching bicyclists. We visitied COS where I made a single purchase in the form of a perfect white cotton t-shirt. We took a cheesy canal boat ride and huffed and puffed our way to the top of the Church of Our Saviour, we ate smørrebrød and walked home in the evening past the University to the sound of churchbells. Copenhagen is a beautiful city filled with beautiful people, but it's also mighty expensive for an underemployed American. Three days was just about all our wallets could withstand, but I would happily have stayed three months in our little Danish hideaway on St. Peter's Street.

IS THAT ALL THE FALL THERE IS?

It snowed here in NYC today. And not just a bit of fluff or the occasional frozen droplet floating by. Hefty, hearty, driving flakes. Big ass flakes. Flakes to write home about, or at least all over your facebook wall. And while the forecast is somewhat more optimistic, I fear today may mark the end of that sweet, fleeting season between tank tops and Gore-Tex. Ah fall, I hardly knew ye!

Two of the (many!) highlights of the season: last minute, impromptu visits to the Met. Always at or near 3pm on a weekday, grab a friend, rush to the train, guiltily slide whatever cash you may have in pocket towards the demure looking young lady in gold rimmed glasses behind the entrance desk, and proceed to the roof. Point out the Plaza Hotel in the distance and rest your elbows on the dense shrubbery. Spend what time you have left wandering through the 2nd Floor galleries and come face to face with what may be your favorite painting of all time. Good Goya.

Also: flowers! And how. I had the extreme pleasure of working with a certain Ms. Amy Merrick on two weddings in the last few weeks. One a small Manhattan affair, and the other an over night, upstate, semi-wilderness adventure. Both involved early mornings, cold fingers, heavy lifting and long hours. As well as an immense sense of satisfaction, several different types of cats, enormous cornbread muffins, slumber parties in converted sawmills, takeout Chinese and FUN. Lotta that. I may be a fool, but I'm hungry for more.

CITY OF ROSES

(I've gotten a bit derailed from sharing photos from my travels this summer, but I still have so many left that it's time I got back on track!)

Waking from fitful plane slumber to find myself peering out through bleary eyes over the fjords of Norway is something I will never, ever forget. Blue water extended like endless fingers into green forests and yellow fields, dotted with tiny islands and disturbed only by the wakes of scattered cruise ships and ferry boats. On the ride from the airport to our hotel in Oslo I couldn't take my eyes off the countryside, as I counted red-roofed barns and tried to catalog flora and fauna (fireweed, just like at home!)

Knowing I had less than 24 hours, not just in Oslo but in Norway as a whole, I fought off jet lag and spent the next few hours wandering around solo. What I found were roses. Roses piled several feet deep all around Oslo Cathedral and in the adjacent park, clogging public fountains and even sprouting from salty piers. Beautiful, but also heavy.

That night after the festival we made the wise decision to skip sleep and instead found our way to an afterparty where I met Fleurette and her amazing friends. One thing I learned on this trip: Scandinavians know how to party. I wish we could have stayed and danced until sunrise, but our 3am lobby call time loomed and soon enough we were on our way to Sandefjord airport--next stop Helsinki.

I LOVE THE FLOWER GIRL

Watch/Listen!

One of the best parts of going home to the island in summertime is that it means I get to work with flowers again. Above are a couple of my favorite bouquets that I made for sale at the Farmer's Market in Friday Harbor. I was inspired by sunsets, long walks on the beach, and Dag's sweet Hawaiian shirt ;n )

I grew up helping my mother plant, weed, harvest and arrange the cut flowers on our farm, and it's had a lasting effect on my brain and my life. I doodle flowers, I dream about flowers, I obsessively save and dry flowers and stick them in jars and vases and hang them on my walls. There's a special corner of my mind--way in the back where I keep secret, special, important things--reserved for the imaginary corner florist shop I will own someday, somewhere, somehow.

CANELES ET LES MÛRES

Two of my most favorite things to eat while at home: canelés from Café Demeter at the Friday Harbor farmer's market and fresh picked wild blackberries. Preferably while wearing stripes.

MAINE PART III: PORTLAND

After finding defeat in Bar Harbor, Alex and I left determined to get our fill of lobster before crossing state lines. Harraseeket Lunch & Lobster Co., a short, sweet drive from Portland, happens to open May 1st (the earliest we found), and it was everything we hoped and more. Obviously, we could have sat down at a lot of restaurants in Bar Harbor or Portland and most places in between, and ordered a nice big lobster dinner. But the beauty of the lobster pound lies one part in the freshness of the lobster (from the tank to your table in fifteen minutes flat) and the friendly, unfussy atmosphere. Sides are simple and delicious, like fluffy stacks of cornbread, corn on the cob, little boiled red potatoes, and strawberry rhubarb pie for dessert. The fact that everything was doused in little cups of golden butter didn't hurt going down either. It was GLORY. I've saved you the carnage shot here, heh, give thanks!

We spent that night at The Elms, one of the most beautiful B&B's I've ever seen and a short drive outside of Portland proper. Although it was bordered on one side by a rather busy stretch of road, once you stepped inside the doors of the 130-year-old building it felt like you were miles away from everything. It was so quiet in there it was almost eerie, but it was also incredibly well-kept by its owners, who have filled it with lovingly selected antiques. Every detail was just so, down to the gilded wallpaper in the foyer. We stayed in the Cottage Room, so named according to our host because it had a certain faded charm particular to many seaside cottages in Maine. He finished by telling us that he very much intended to keep it that way, which made me wish that there were more people on this planet capable, like him, of understanding the beauty in leaving something old and worn just the way it is.

One of the highlights of the trip came the next morning, our last in Maine, when we visited the Portland Architectural Salvage. Imagine the most fantastic old attic you always wished your Grandparents had, filled with strange, amazing fantastic old junk and furniture and dusty trunks and cloudy glass bottles. Now, multiply that by four entire floors, and you're most of the way there. It was a dream, although on the pricey side. I wanted to take everything home with me, from ship's wheels to wash basins and bags of milkglass doorknobs. If you ever have the chance, it's definitely worth a wander--thanks to all who recommended it!

Our last night we spent in Cambridge outside Boston. I had never been before, and I loved all the pretty houses and apartment buildings painted greens and creams, and the lilacs bowing their heavy heads in the rain. Now, holed up here on my lonesome, inching my way through an NYC summer, all I can think about is going back. I know that other adventures await, but they still feel impossibly far off at the moment.