Gathering Moments

Life is a plot line.

We are born, time passes, stuff happens and then we die.

End of story.

(All photos by LBG.)

When we're growing up, many of us spend a lot of time focusing on the job, the salary, the house, and all the rest of it -- all the achievements that shore up the structure of our lives. The so-called "big stuff."

(London, 2010.)

But if we're lucky, there will come a day when we realize that the big stuff isn't what matters most. Sure, all the challenges and triumphs are important. But what lies in between them  -- in all those spaces and crevices brimming with small unheralded moments -- is where we are really given the chance to live meaningfully. 

Take your morning cup of coffee, for example. It's nothing special unless you invest it with significance. 

But how do you do that?

Maybe you suddenly appreciate the thick velvety silence that surrounds you while the rest of the world sleeps. Or maybe you listen to the birds outside and realize that no matter what happened yesterday, they always wake up optimistic for the future. Or maybe you are reminded of a photo you once saw of Elizabeth Taylor sipping coffee on a yacht in the Sardinian sea. Or maybe you just are grateful that the crick in your neck is gone. 

That's the crazy-simple secret of a satisfying life: appreciating as many of these teeny tiny little moments as you can.

Once you open your eyes and your heart to them, you will find them everywhere.

In a pair of unlikely friends.

(Ford and Paul. Photograph by Jeanne Tripplehorn.)

In the dwindling rays of sunlight falling across a vast plain of possibility.

(Sunset in the Moroccan desert, 2009.)

In the cheerful warmth of a favorite room.

(Home, 2012.)

In a sweaty handful of wildflowers.

(Normandy, France, 2007.)

In the promise of a blackberry cardamom almond cake fulfilled.

(Home, 2012. Recipe from Scandalicious, HERE.)

In the joy of being able to lose yourself in your work.

(detail, "On the Price of Beauty",  2010.)

In the late afternoon hike no one wanted to go on and everyone ended up glad they did.

(Hollywood Hills, 2011.)

In ten minutes of not moving a muscle.

(Home, 2012.)

In the private unveiling of one perfect flower.

(Home, 2012.)

All these things will melt into you and become part of you, if you let them.

Let them.

x/Lisa

Ten Simple Lovely Things

(Click HERE.)

Thank you to Joslyn over at Simple Lovely for her post on some of my most recent favorite things. It was an honor to answer her questions.  And I return the girl crush!

If It's Sunday, This Must Be France

We went to Cap d'Antibes yesterday.

Our good friends Olga and Eric live around the corner in a gorgeous old 1929 Mediterranean villa. In about thirty seconds, we can walk from our little English cottage to the South of France, no passport required.

Olga's back garden is a magical paradise that always reminds me of F. Scott Fitzgerald's Villa America in "Tender Is The Night." Lush vegetation surrounds a stone pool, clambering vines adorn a separate guest house, and romantic walkways lead to a myriad of outdoor seating areas. She designed it herself but modestly deflects all praise. (She's a coy thing.)

She was wearing a fitted bateau shirt with red and blue stripes. Tall and willowy, she possesses that particular brand of Gallic style that's chic and effortless.

Unwinding with them over a bottle of wine was just the restorative we needed after a unusually hectic weekend. Luca disappeared upstairs with the children and peace spread over the land.

We drank a Bordeaux that tasted of earth and figs and black currants in thin-stemmed crystal glasses. (Well, les femmes did. Eric and Piero drank Lebanese beer, just visible in the background).

To say that Olga is a Francophile is an understatement. Everywhere you turn, there is a reminder of the mother land. In a shady corner, a traditional bistro set in Provençal blue creates an artful haven for her children.

Flowers -- roses, camellias, bougainvillea -- were in masses everywhere. The scent was heady and intoxicating. I want a garden like this.

Here, Olga has used a wire frame to train little trumpet vines around an arched window. Imagine what this is going to look like framed with flowers.

Inside, she has created a sanctuary for her family that resounds with colors, textures, layers and personal history. See that white sofa? It used to belong to Valentino (the silent film star, not the designer).

Editor's Note: There are so many wonderful historic homes here in Los Angeles. Magical pleasure domes built in the 1920's and 1930's, they are a heady reminder of Hollywood's Golden Age. Within a stone's throw of my house are a Spanish villa, a Georgian manor, a French chateau and a half-timbered Tudor, all richly weathered and bearing a nobility that only the patina of age can bestow. Despite their different architectural styles, they all work beautifully together. It's my "cocktail party" theory - the most memorable ones are filled with people from all walks of life and all points of view. Houses and neighborhoods are no different.

The Five O'Clock Shadow

Despite the recent heat wave here in Los Angeles, autumn is still creeping in on dark furry haunches and settling over The Kenmore Arms.

No more endless summer. These days, when Luca does his homework after school, I call upon a solicitous halo of light to protect him from the encroaching shadows.

So engrossed is he in his math problems that he doesn't notice me watching him from the living room. He sits on his heel, scratches out answers with his pencil and interrupts the fitful silence with a high-pitched rendition of Lady Gaga's "Telephone." He knows every word.

Hello hello baby you called? I can't hear a thing

I have got no service in the club you see see.

Wha-wha-what did you say? You're breakin' up on me

Sorry I cannot hear you, I'm kinda busy.

K-kinda busy

K-kinda busy

* * * * *

I love this time of year. Houses love it too, I think. In contrast to summer which is all about communing with nature, autumn brings with it a reawakened sense of domesticity. Homes become hives of activity, don't you find? These days, I find myself in the kitchen more often, poring over recipes, tidying shelves, polishing silver and filling the pantry with tasty ingredients so that when the baking mood strikes, I'll have everything at hand.

This past Friday was my turn to host a bi-monthly dinner with four trusted friends that we call "Girls' Night In." It's a much-revered outlet for us; we check in with each other, discuss what's new and usually end up talking late into the night about issues near and dear to us all. All conversation is sub rosa; nothing leaves the table. It's group therapy with people I love; I couldn't live without it.

I had already decided on making butternut squash soup as an appetizer and wasn't going to let the heat deter me from making it. (Besides, it always cools down at night here.)

Originally taken from one of my favorite cookbooks "Great Food Fast", I've modified the recipe slightly (it stipulates 4 cups of water, but I use chicken stock; also, I omit the 1/4 cup of fresh orange juice) to give it a more satisfying depth of flavor. I serve it with a dollop of créme fraiche and a sprinkling of roasted pumpkin seeds.

Timesaver Tip: You do NOT have to peel the squash (quite a tricky task and one which makes some people avoid butternut squash entirely). Just wash the skin well and chop into pieces (see below). It completely dissolves into nothing when you purée it. Thanks to my husband for discovering this.

Pureed Butternut Squash Soup (adapted from Great Food Fast)

Serves 4; Prep Time: 25 minutes; Total time: 45 minutes

2 tablespoons butter

1 small onion, chopped

1 piece (2 inches) peeled fresh ginger, chopped

2 garlic cloves, chopped

2 3/4 pounds butternut squash, seeds removed, and flesh cut into 3/4-inch cubes

Coarse salt and pepper

Creme fraiche (optional)

Spicy Pumpkin Seeds (optional; recipe below)

1. Melt the butter in a large sauce pan over medium heat. Cook the onion until fragrant, about 2 minutes. Add the ginger, garlic, and squash; cook, stirring occasionally, until fragrant, 6 to 8 minutes. Stir in 4 cups chicken stock. Bring to a boil; reduce the heat. Simmer until the squash is tender, about 20 minutes.

2. Puree the soup in batches. Stir in 1 1/2 teaspoons salt. Serve hot, with creme fraiche, pepper and pumpkin seeds, if desired.

Spicy Pumpkin Seeds

1 cup raw green pumpkin seeds

1 teaspoon chili powder

1/8 to 1/4 teaspoon cayenne pepper

1/2 teaspoon coarse salt

2 teaspoons fresh lime juice

Preheat the oven to 350 degrees F. In a medium bowl, combine all the ingredients and toss to coat. Spread on a rimmed baking sheet; bake until puffed and browned, about 10 minutes.

I'm telling you, it is beyond delicious.

We sat around the table until almost 1am and then I cleaned up everything in a herculean burst of energy so I wouldn't have to face a pile of dirty dishes in the morning. Needless to say, Saturday was spent in a more slothful fashion. I draped myself upon every chair or sofa within striking distance and spent the day with a thick book and a cup of tea within reach at all times. Dusk couldn't arrive too soon for me. I was asleep by 8pm.

* * * * *

On Sunday, I finished "Wolf Hall", Hilary Mantel's spellbinding (and Booker Prize-winning) masterpiece about Thomas Cromwell and it was a bittersweet moment when I finally relinquished my grip on it. It's a compulsive read -- which may account for the lack of a post last week; blame Ms. Mantel, not me -- and my brain is now craving another hit of Tudor England and its brutal splendor. (Fortunately, there's a sequel in the works.)

"Wolf Hall" is the perfect novel to read as the days contract and the nights grow colder, packed as it is with images of frigid castles, late night feasts, sweating sickness, fog, terror and of course the ever-lurking evil of life under Henry VIII.

Each copy should come with a stipulation:

For an optimum experience, read this book at dusk when darkness begins to tarnish the horizon and a five o'clock shadow slowly seeps across your floors. Should you choose to read under different conditions (i.e. while suntanning and sipping a fruity cocktail), results may vary.

Henry James Takes On House Beautiful

It's a time-worn cliché: "The more things change, the more things stay the same."

But could you ever envision that novelist Henry James' description of a 19th century English house would be so perfectly realized in a 2010 Manhattan apartment featured in House Beautiful?

Read the following extracts from "A London Life", written in 1887, and see for yourself how uncannily designer Daniel Sach's project for a New York townhouse matches the details of James' novella:

"Lady Davenant was in the drawing-room, in a low chair by one of the windows, reading the second volume of a novel." [I mean, come on. The book is even there!]

(House Beautiful, October 2010.

Interiors by Daniel Sachs. Photos by Ngog Minh Ngo.)

"The room had its bright, durable, sociable air, the air that Laura Wing liked in so many English things - its chintzes...its well-worn carpets, its domestic art - that of being meant for daily life, for long periods, for uses of high decency." [Do we need any more proof that the aesthetic sensibility of a comfortable room transcends time? Umm, no. Case closed.]

(Living room)

"The afternoon had faded but the lamps had been brought in, the smell of flowers was in the air and the old house of Plash seemed to recognize the hour that suited it best." [These dark-painted walls perfectly illustrate the seductive allure of a room at dusk.]

(Foyer)

"There were quaint old maps on the wall...

(Children's bedroom)

...and 'collections' -- birds and shells....The place was a setting for rosy childhood." [Even today, exotic, far-off places and stockpiles of "stuff" remain the classic recipe for a kid's bedroom.]

(Children's bedroom)

"That was the story told by ever so many other things in the house which betrayed the full perception of a comfortable, liberal, deeply domestic effect." [The personal touches, below, so indicative of the soul of the owner, add the necessary layers of meaning and warmth which make a house a home.]

* * * * *

So here's the question:

If you had to pick a book whose interiors best fit your own home, what would it be? Ayn Rand's "The Fountainhead" with its stripped-down midcentury sensuality? Or perhaps the eccentric, cheerful chaos of Dodie Smith's "I Capture The Castle"? Or the simple, spiritual comforts of Thoreau's "On Walden Pond"?

Talk to me.

Monday Miscellany

I am waiting for my breakfast and then to be driven to adventure camp...

...and I am waiting to be let outside so I can go lizard-hunting and bring back a trophy tail...

...and I am waiting to have my flowers gently collected and dried and made into lavender sachets (as you keep promising to do)...

...and I am waiting to be recovered in something fabulous and slightly unexpected...

...and I am waiting to be used in a way that enhances my flavor profile...

...and I am waiting to be devoured...

...oh and please please so are we...

...and I am waiting to be rehung so that I can gaze upon a more scenic vista...

...and I am waiting to be listened to...remember how happy I make you?

(Charlotte Gainsbourg CD, available HERE)

...and I am waiting patiently to support your future endeavors...

...and I am waiting to be noticed, right now, right this minute, in my very last explosion of beauty (when I'm gone, remember that I lived fully and fearlessly, won't you?)...

...and I am waiting to be tucked in because I have camp tomorrow.

What is waiting for you today?