Welcome! Under the Honeysuckle Vine has moved to its new location on WordPress.
Most of the boxes have been unpacked. My Blogmaster has a few corrections to make and I still have to learn to navigate my third blog platform (like how to make my photos bigger). I’m so happy to be here!
I hope you like my new design. I have wanted to design my own banner for years, but couldn’t figure out how. The photos are my usual “organic” pictures (my Blogmaster’s nice term for someone who never changes the camera setting or edits photographs), but they reflect what I’m doing and thinking at the moment. My photos are snapshots in the truest sense.
Here, at the new, improved Under the Honeysuckle Vine, I plan to explore more deeply the meaning of place in life and writing, talk about what I’m reading, and take you with me to the small corners of my home state.
I also plan to have interviews, writing exercises (that I will do too), and give-aways. This week I’ll preview my very first give-away!
Today I changed the wreath on my front door. The mohair bears are just for show–they are far too sensitive to hang on a door and are sitting in their proper place in our den.
Fall is here! I have squawked and harangued and complained and whined to anyone within a fifty mile radius about the rainy, humid hot weather that squatted over us most of September. Then October pads in and suddenly it’s cooler and the leaves are turning, just a branch here and there, and everything is still.
Do you think I’m happy I can go on my walks without sweating buckets? No! Now I’m too cold and I miss the birds. The winding down of the year is always sad. But pumpkins and mums brighten our front porches and tickseed yellows the ditches. In the evenings, I listen to the geese–ca-ronk! ca-ronk!–flying low on strong wings, leaving us.
Fall is here. And yet . . . I still see honeysuckle lingering at the edge of the woods. I hope you enjoy my new blog location. Visit often!
A late birthday celebration is better than none at all. My husband wasn’t able to come to Hollins this summer for the weekend of my birthday. So, six weeks later, we went to Pinkadilly, our favorite place to celebrate our Valentine’s Day anniversary and Christmas.
It was a typical hot summer Friday in Fredericksburg. The town was filled with tourists, doing tourist-y things.
Pinkadilly was busy, but we had booked our favorite table. Sometimes we come here just for lunch. We’ll have Earl Grey creme tea and scones and quiche or a sandwich. But when it’s time for a big blow-out, only Tea for Two will do.
The second we are seated, I swap teacups from other tables. All the cups and saucers are different, but sometimes the ones at our reserved table are uninspired. I make sure I have a vintage cup and saucer from England. After all, it’s a tea shop! This time I swapped the sugar bowl too. My husband is amused by this practice (and maybe a little embarrassed). Then we are served a pot of hot tea.
Next comes the quiche and soup of the day. My husband usually opts for the salad they created just for him instead of the soup. He also is unable to take a normal photograph.
Then comes the tea service. The scones of the day (we get one of each) were cinnamon raisin and vanilla with individual pots of Devonshire cream and lemon curd. Usually we fight over the Devonshire cream (never enough) but this time we were quite civilized. The second tier holds savories: cucumber cream cheese rounds, spinach-artichoke dip in a teeny tortilla chip, pineapple ham salad in pita, and their signature chicken salad with grapes.
The top tier–oh! the desserts! Homemade chocolate truffles (when my husband’s back was turned, I scarfed his), blackberry bruchetta (wonderfully tart and crunchy), strawberry cake with cream cheese icing, and Pinkadilly’s signature Pinkadilly pie (think pink lemonade in a pie crust) layered in a shot glass.
We have never seen another man in here, except for the tatooed waiter. I suppose all that overwhelming pinkness threatens their manhood or something. Pink walls, pink tablecloths, flowers and delicate china things wherever you look. Plus all that itty-bitty food.
But they are missing out. We’re stuffed when we leave this place.
Full and happy, my husband even takes a normal picture.