Here are some pics of our Blackforest tabletop collection.  The morning light was particularly spectacular as it streamed through the dining room windows.  

I especially liked the stark contrast between the white of the napkins and placemats against the aged, dark table.

Moody morning light

Close-up of Blackforest table linens

Blackforest placemats

Blackforest napkins

Edge detail on the napkins

Getty Center courtyard

Travertine detailing at the museum tram stop

Oh, and there was a wedding in between.

Our dear friends, Randy and Todd were nuptialized on September 7: at 3:33pm (special number to Todd!)

Those who are familiar with our Christmas Market will recognize Randy as the smiling face of our dining room.

The shining, happy bride!

The ceremony was held at the Adamson House in Malibu;  on the beach, very California, very nice.  Well it more than nice, it was absolutely fabulous!  The Adamson House is filled with Malibu tile, they owned the factory.  It only stands to reason.

The entry and walled motorcourt

Exotic plantings at the fountain court

Malibu tile details

The fountain courtyard

It was hot (90 something) even at the beach and there were tuxedos involved (Thank heaven there was a breeze).

I was a huppah or chuppah holder. For the uninitiated, a huppah is the tent-like covering over the marrying couple.  I was at post #3.  And unbeknownst to our nuptializing friends I was also an uncover paparazzo.

My fellow hupper holders — Jay, Brian, and Lidia

Huppah in one hand, camera in the other.  Here are the pics.  Here’s to our favourite married couple.  Here’s to Randy and Todd!

Bridal preparations!

Grooming!

The kiss!

Then I remembered, we don’t have a yard light!  It was the moon, the harvest moon.  I don’t recall seeing it ever this bright. 

1:00 am moonlight

It is the unexpected that becomes the most exciting.  Sitting there on a table awaiting pricing was a set of dishes for 12.

Simple and elegant, I find that white china showcases food at its very best.  I was hooked and had to have them.

So I am now the proud owner of my first set of Wedgwood bone china.  Today, I have to find room in the cupboards!

Preparation for watermelon pickles - Russian Style.

In an effort to capture the mouth-watering taste of summer, I found a tantalizing recipe for Solyoniy Arbuz otherwise known as Russian pickled watermelon in the September issue of Saveur. 

Slicing, dicing, pickles and brine.

So off I went to find a watermelon, dill and pickling spices.  What I returned with was a black, seedless watermelon.  Its green-black rind was shiny and unblemished.  For its size, it was very heavy.  The flesh was not as dark as I expected, but a deep ruby red.

A pot of premature pickles awaiting refrigeration.

Watermelon, celery, salt, sugar, dill, pickling spices, vinegar, a touch of cayenne for kick, water and a week’s worth of waiting.  A basic refigerator pickle. 

Prize winning vegetables

Blue ribbon breads from around the county.

Let them eat cake, carrot cake that is!

It had been years since I had been to the county fair, so it was with great anticipation that I looked forward to it.

I donned my gear, cowboy gear, pink cowboy gear no less (more about that later!) and headed to the fairgrounds. 

Queen of the Coop.  Founder of Chicks n Chaps,  Shannone Hart.

I had been invited to attend Chicks n Chaps.  I guess I was an honorary wingman!  My dear friend Shannone Hart founded this charity event to raise funds and awareness for breast cancer. 

The Chicks n Chaps rodeo clinic was in conjunction with the Montana Stampede Rodeo where Tough Enough to Wear Pink cowboys were competing.  So as is the custom, everyone was sporting pink in honor of those battling breast cancer.

The day long clinic pitted enthusiastic women against the members of the University of Montana Rodeo team.  The cowboys had their hands full!

A couple of the “hands full!”

Pink prevails!

Head chick Shannone & me.

Texas chix

Upon hearing about the rodeo clinic in February, these four gals loaded a travel trailer and headed up from Texas to participate.

More chix and a wingman.

No one cried fowl when the beefcake went to auction!

Board member chick, Suzanne with Dustin Jenkins, newly crowned collegiate national champion bull rider.

Fried chix in the coop. 

Cold beers and smiles were served up in the food tent dubbed the Eight Second Saloon!

One day out, and word is out.  This event may go national.  Is it true the National Rodeo Finals is looking to incorporate Chicks n Chaps?  Kudos to Shannone and her crew for such a successful event.

When it did finally burst forth fully formed the calendar was already August.

Spring fawn awaiting its mother’s return.

Lavender abuzz with bees.  A welcome sound of summer.

A window box painted with primary colors.

Garden views of the Schoolhouse in bloom.

The apple orchard in its finest.

Truckload of tannenbaums and nativities

Designed to shape and restructure candle light, our candle holders will surely cast a warm glow onto any table or mantle — hopefully yours!

Uncrated for Christmas

Friday I was greeted by the UPS man with boxes upon boxes of the new Christmas items I had designed.  They filled the front porch.  I had my weekend’s worth of work.  All 15 boxes needed to be unpacked and inventoried.

 
Unpacking and sorting snow flakes

With over 5000 items, I am pleased to announce that only 10 items were damaged.  The time has now arrived to begin assembling the snow strings, painting the ornaments, and getting ready for the Christmas Market on November 28-30.

I hope to see you there!

Snow drifts in the corners of the Schoolhouse

Berlin’s destroyed and reconstructed cathedral.

I had been following the architecture building boom.  I was aware of the renovation of the Reichstag and the new embassies sprouting all around it.  But architecture is only a small part of what makes a city.

First, I had my sights on Potsdam.  I was determined to explore this suburb and Sanssouci.  Sanssouci (French for without concern) was a pleasure park built by the German royals to escape the rigors of ruling. 

 
Sans souci says it all.

Sanssouci is dotted with summer residences and pleasure pavilions.  This excursion was sure to be one of the highlights of the Maria-Theresa Tour, even though we were firmly in the territory of her rival, the Kaiser.  It was here at Sanssouci, in the breakfast room of the Neues Palace that the Kaiser signed the paperwork that started WWI, a rather dark chapter for a place created for frivolity.

Neues Palace in a brighter light.

On the way to the Orangerie.

Set among pathways that crisscrossed the park lay the pleasure pavilions.  One the the most interesting was the Romanisches Bad (Roman baths).   As was the fashion, it was constructed to resemble a recently unearthed Pompeiian bath. 

A welcoming mosaic floor in the Roman bathhouse.

The courtyard of the Roman bath.

The Pompeiian-inspired frigidarium.

But I was there to see Schinkel’s “palace” for the Crown Prince Frederick, Charlottenhof.  This charming dwelling is so intimately scaled that I ready to move in. 

Sanssouci parkland and its pleasures.

 
The crown prince’s palace.

The portico of the petite palace.

At last I was to actually stand in the “tented room” whose pictures had provided inspiration for the guest room in our first home.  Pinch me! No one on the tour spoke English so I did it myself!

Onto the rest of my tour of Potsdam. 

To my astonishment, a mid-century renaissance was taking place in Potsdam.  It was similar to what I witnessed in Palm Springs a decade ago. 

 
Mid-century tower blocks before restoration.

This time it was Soviet-era tower blocks that were being rejuvenated.  Once the foreboding sentinels of the skyline, they now have been recast with color.  Evoking favored pattern and color combinations of the early Bauhaus textile designers like Gunta Stölzl and Anni Albers.

Renewed and rejunvenated Potsdam.

After logging what must have been nearly 10 miles on foot in and around Potsdam, I returned to Berlin, ready to discover it.

Berlin is a city of contrasts. It is new and old; beautiful and ugly.  Like every large metropolitan city the streets are teeming with cars and pedestrians.  There is charm and in certain areas, a great lack of it in others.  In a way, it reminded me of the city that I love, Los Angeles.

Like almost every American, we made our pilgrimage to Check Point Charlie and the Brandenburg Gate.

Picture this.  Only two Euros!

The Brandenburg Gate.

Growing up in the 1970’s, these two icons were what symbolized Berlin.  They appeared in all the spy movies during the Cold War.  They elicited a tingle of danger, of excitement.  They were the edge; the boundary where freedom stopped, mid street.  Now they have become a tourist bus stop where for two Euros you can be photographed with actors posing as Western and Eastern Bloc guards.

All that is left of the Wall, its imprint.

We stayed in the Kurfurstandam, an area which was West Berlin before the Wall fell.  Once the height of Western commerce in a divided city, it appeared faded and dated with its impersonal high rises and anonymous architecture.

Venturing in Unter den Linden (under the Linden trees) in the former eastern sector, we discovered the new heart of Berlin.  Named for the wide boulevard near the Reichstag this, is the newly restored seat of the German government.

The Reichstag with its new dome.

The Reichstag on the river.

Here the past mingles with the present.  Along the boulevard is the grand home of Aeroflot, national airline of the Soviet Union, situated in the same building as the Russian Embassy.  A few paces down the boulevard stands the Brandenburg Gate.  Turn left and you will find the new American embassy.  It’s one of the largest buildings here.  The embassy overlooks one of the newest and most poignant memorials I have experienced, the The Memorial for the Murdered Jews of Europe, also known as the Holocaust Memorial, by US architect Peter Eisenman.

Entrance to the memorial. 

It is a gridded labyrinth, orderly and controlled.  As one enters the ground gives way.  What appeared at first look to be an assortment of rectangular, coffin-like pyres, suddenly loom above. 

The memorial rising in front.

Its cobbled pathways undulate beneath you causing uncertainly with every step.  As you venture further into the memorial it grows darker.  Light is visible, but dimmed.  A straight path allows exit.   A turn right or left sets you on a new perilous path. 

The uncertain path forward.

It becomes a personal journey that really can not be described, but needs to be experienced.  This is what makes a truly great memorial, the ability for an inanimate object to become a personalized experience. 

I suppose that is the best way to experience any city;  come with no preconceived ideas and then just let the experience wash over you.  That’s how I approached Berlin.   I discovered a city with a sad and tragic past that it has been dealing with for over a half a century.  It now struggles with the complexities of multi-culturalism in a modern world;  a rather befitting task for a city that was once known for its strident homogenity.