Forcing Forsythia, the Love of Orange

cappella_kicheloe_image

Photo by Capella Kincheloe Interior Design

As I typed the words ‘forcing forsythia’ I heard them spoken in the voice of Sylvester, the cartoon cat who always chased Tweety Bird.

These metal industrial stools cheered me when I came across them this morning via Nest Design Studio. I do love orange, and a jolly little 1940s milk pitcher, a small le Creuset butter pan and a few Staub shallow dishes are practically glowing on my shelves this morning in all their orangeness.

Then the forsythia filled me with longing for Spring—which is a long way away in these northern parts. Just yesterday I found my secateurs under a dusting of snow in the alcove off the porch. (The wind blew snow into every nook and cranny in this last storm.)

I’ll cut forsythia branches to force today. If you’ve never done this, it’s so simple to do: clip branches close to the main trunk of your bush until you have a bundle to fill a vase (or put single branches into a group of glass bottles).

Put the branches in warm water, then fill your sink with very hot water.

Submerge each branch in the sink and (under the water) recut the end at an angle, then cut a one inch slice through the end of the stem (to help the branch absorb the water).

Make your arrangement and put it out to display. The branches will respond to the water and indoor warmth and blossom in due time. They will last longer if you change the water regularly and don’t have them in direct sun or near direct heat. That can be hard in our house, so I just enjoy whatever blooming comes my way. The yellow flowers are dazzling when lit up by sunlight.

Happy winter gardening.

Image from Capella Kincheloe Interior Design, found via Nest Design Studio.

More great information about forcing branches: Fine Gardening.

Gudrun Sjõdén

Swedish artist and designer Gudrun Sjõdén just launched her new fall home collections. Two called The Allotment and The Aritist’s House particularly struck my fancy, and here are some of her luscious visuals.

Scandinavian colors and patterns might speak especially to those of us who live in the far north. I like how lived in these rooms appear and can imagine reading bedtime stories in this blue bedroom or cutting garden tomatoes at the dining table.

Which are your favorites?

Asleep Beneath the Branches

I know this guy David and it’s a story for another day how I met him. I’ll just say that we were flung together as strangers at a breakfast table and the subject of Ireland came up. We were off and running.

So feast your eyes on the enchanting bed chamber David just finished for his 9 year old daughter. Today the rain and winds of Hurricane Irene are howling outside my window, and I wish I could crawl into this bed, draw the curtains, and read Wuthering Heights.

A quick background on David Petrie: In 2010 he wrote an inspired and entertaining blog about parenting called Daddy’s Home which led to his invitation to write about parenting for the Huffington Post. To read these great columns go here. The man can weave great stories and lessons and I’ve learned a lot from reading his writings. I’ve laughed loud enough to snort and once I cried. That’s talent for you.

AND now you see that he is rather talented in other ways. He loved my post about the Falling Garden, and we had a few email exchanges about making things from branches and twigs after that.

Here is the lovely result of the woodland bedroom his daughter asked for. He made the bed from Sumac trees that are plentiful in southern Vermont and easily stripped of their bark when the wood is green. He contemplated birch trees, but heard that they make a mess indoors as they start losing their paper bark. He plans to apply tung oil to the wood after it has seasoned a bit more.

The bed is a futon platform with a new bed mattress on top. The tree supports attach at the ceiling so that the bed can be easily pulled out to change the sheets.

I love that detail.

Beauty is one thing, but if you are struggling each time to change the sheets your sublime woodland bedroom won’t be nearly so soothing.

Finally, the birds, leaves and trees on the walls are French wall decals sourced through the English shop Zazous. I think the placement is truly inspired.

Another post you may like about a cozy bed nook is here.

All photos by David Petrie.

A Memorable Sleeping Nook

I like to read the New York Times Home section on Thursdays. Sometimes I keep an article and find it, months later, yellowed and wrinkled under the bed or on a pile in the studio. Sometimes I ask myself, “Why did I keep this?” And other times I jump up and down and thank myself (and my mother) for my pack rat tendencies.

Recently I remembered the story about a man who left New York after 9/11 and renovated an old house in the Catskills. The house had a Scandinavian style bed nook and many collections of the owner’s own cabinet of curiosities. My friend Denise has helped me bring some order to my many clippings and ideas, so—thanks to her—I was able to put my hands on the newsprint section, published in 2009.

All photos by Tony Cenicola for the New York Times.

The home I mention was remodelled by the painter Sean Scherer and his partner, Marc Mayer. The 1840s farmhouse in Walton, N.Y., brims with quirky and beautiful collections of mercury glass, early 1900s classroom maps, models, and signs, botanical prints and papers (some used as wallpaper), and rich accent colors on various walls—egg yolk yellow, dusky turquoise and pewter gray.

It’s the bed nook that stayed with me all this time. I’ve dreamt of such a bed nook since seeing one illustrated in Gnomes by Wil Huygen when I was a child, and later seeing the art of Swedish artist Carl Larsson and reading the description of the sleeping alcoves in the gypsy wagon in The Wind in the Willows.

To read the whole article and see more photographs of this highly interesting house: An Artful Clutter article by Andrea Codrington, published October 2009.

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