The Meadow

Every night I say I'll write more tomorrow and then the next night comes and I have to hit the hay, exhausted by the time Punchy and I have taken turns reading The Frightened Kitten, and she has finished her milk and graham crackers and brushed her teeth.

But I want to do at least a short post.

I drove into Greenwich Village today to tour a red brick townhouse on Charles Street that was built in 1884 and still has original pine floors [wide plank], fireplaces, high ceilings, narrow staircases, wall cupboards and lots of other details. It was lovely. The owner [since 1968] and realtor showed me around. I'm writing about it for Aspire Magazine.

The house is for sale and includes a gorgeous carriage house in the back, where photographer Diane Arbus lived for years with her daughters. The carriage house has huge, airy rooms. There's a garden between the two houses for dining al fresco. You would not know you were in the middle of a bustling city.

The asking price for the parcel is $13.5 million.

On the way back to my car, I happened upon The Meadow, a dreamy store on Hudson Street. [It has two other locations in Portland, OR.] Abraham, the shopkeeper, made me the sweetest bouquet with an exquisitely fat and ruffly pink & orange rose; ranunculi [pale pink and white, have been craving these blooms]; and a tall spiky blue flower, maybe larkspur. It was pricey, $22, but looks old-fashioned and beautiful in my pale blue mason jar. It truly is stunning.

The shop also carries finishing salts [and tiny, silvery salt spoons], bitters and extravagant chocolate bars. I bought a Belgian dark orange cherry bar made in Portsmouth, NH by Byrne & Carlson. It was even vegan, so Figgy could have some,

It was an enchanted stop on life's path. And I have the nosegay to prove it.

Good night.