Frances Palmer

Frances Palmer creates the most exquisitely charming pottery I've ever seen. She lives and works in Connecticut an hour and a half north of Brooklyn and about two weeks ago I visited her studio. 

A little over a year ago, I stumbled upon her work for the first time by seeing this photo and was instantaneously struck dumb by dahlias. Frances grows them herself, along with a host of other delicious flowers, in a cutting garden off to the side of her studio and she picks them periodically to use in photographs of her work. It's hard to verbalize the wit in her pottery, the purposeful imperfections and the undeniable functionality of her pieces. Her vases were made to hold flowers and her cake plates beg to serve a slice. To say that I am a fan is not enough. I'm enamored, enraptured and astounded by what she does.

The afternoon I visited Frances I found her with armloads of flowers, prepping a tablescape she designed for a fancy New York benefit gala the next day. She took the photo above of the small vases we stuffed with tulips, sweet pea and some still wet with garden dew daffodils. It was, honestly, the most inspiring little afternoon I've spent in some time.

Frances' website is a minefield of covetousness (this and this and everything else, too) and Ginny Branch's interview with her really paints a good picture of why she's my top shelf inspiration. Her work inspired me to start throwing my own vases and every time I sit down at the wheel, I realize a bit more of what a marvel she really is.

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Amsterdam and the thanksgiving miracle

The best thing that happened in Amsterdam was hands down Thanksgiving. The Merrick girls are big Thanksgiving appreciators. The pie, the mashed potatoes, the gravy and the dark meat. It was our first official day in Amsterdam and we were freezing and feeling a bit homesick for a big family dinner.

We had made plans to get together with Pia Jane Bijkerk that night (who is one of my top favorite blogger girls in the world), even though she was in the middle of a mad deadline for her latest book. She hadn't gotten a wink of sleep the night before but she took us out for a surprise Thanksgiving dinner, complete with pumpkin AND pecan pie. Wine was drunk, stories were told. Micha and I left bubbling over with happiness and I think the night really warmed my heart to Amsterdam in a way that none of the other cities had managed. The pecan pie didn't hurt the cause, either.

So we're home now and I've run out of pictures to show, which is very sad as it means the vacation is really over. Sounds like a simple concept to grasp but it's proving tricky. Maybe if I just click my heels?

But really, there are worse places to be stuck than with friends you love and cats who after all these weeks away, still ignore your existence.

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Amsterdam snippets, almost over

It's hard to believe there are still more pictures and adventures I've yet to tell you about our trip. It's like the well intentioned slide projector show & tell gone on about 2 weeks too long.

I'm also nearly out of new words to use to gush about Amsterdam. The houses, the canals, the boats, the bikes. Again, the cheese. A little somethin somethin called stroopwafels gifted to us by sweet miss small sight.

The women in Amsterdam are wildly impressive on their bicycles. (Although anything related to bicycles seems impressive to me, who has been run over one too many times to ride alongside cars ever again.) I swear to you I saw I a woman riding a single bike that was carrying 3 children under the age of 4. With groceries. In the rain. It's amazing how naturally riding a bike in a city comes to the Dutch.

Gracefully weaving and balancing babies and umbrellas, it was enough to make my head spin. Such a feat would likely mean certain destruction in the States but Amsterdammers all seem to watch out for one another, a lovely concept indeed.

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The dutch flower auction

One of the main catalysts for this trip was my preoccupation with going to Holland to see the dutch flower auction. Ever since I started working with flowers I've been fascinated with Holland's role in both growing and selling flowers.

For those not intimate with the ways of the floral industry, most of the flowers grown worldwide are flown to Holland to be sold at auction and then flown to their final destination. A rose will be cut in Ecuador then immediately sent to Amsterdam to be sold and then it will be shipped to New York to be purchased by a consumer. It's almost like mecca for florists, although I must admit my idea of floral mecca is closer to a beautiful field of wildflowers.

We went to Aalsmeer to see the auction live and it was incredible. Of course, I liked the old photo displays of growing and selling methods of days past the best.

The flower auction sells 48 million flowers every day. 48 MILLION! EVERY DAY! We got there at 9am, 2 hours after the main event. We couldn't help but laugh that even on vacation I was stressing out about being late for the flower market, a near weekly occurrence around here. As it is in life, so shall it be in Amsterdam.

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Stenelux

My favorite stumbled upon surprise in Amsterdam was a little natural history shop called Stenelux. We had just done some wandering in museumplein and I was pretty drunk on dutch master's still lives (even if the Rijksmuseum didn't have it's full collection on view). The bugs in those paintings are incredible so to find ourselves in this little shop felt like a perfectly natural transition.

I couldn't help myself and had to buy some little friends. On the US customs form they specifically ask if you are carrying insects into the states. Um, no sir? I spent the whole 10 hour flight irrationally worried my bugs would be seized.

Now they're sitting on my mantel still in their display boxes because funny enough, I'm scared to touch them.

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Amsterdam container gardens

New York could really learn a thing or two from Amsterdam about container gardening. It seems like every other house has a collection of mismatched pots with rambling roses or wisteria or some other delicious unknown. And this was winter, I can only imagine how it would look in the late summer or during peak bulb season.

Amsterdammers use every available city inch for growing, with pots tumbling out on to the sidewalk and hanging vines overhead. Next spring, I vow to redouble my measly fire escape efforts and save it from its current incarnation as my graveyard for empty pots. Morning Glories winding along the rails. Herbs galore. Zinnias!! Finally, a new years resolution that doesn't fill me with dread.

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