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A wonderful carpet of tree bark to cushion the step of the weary gardener.

It’s on once again.  The annual dash for the elusive morel.  May the odds ever be in your favor.

It’s official, my new style blog has launched and I’m so excited!!!  From fashion, food, design, even travel – just a simple blog devoted to all things ’spottswood style’.  I can’t wait to hear what you think.  Please visit and subscribe.

The flood of memories threatens to destroy a life of calm servitude I have constructed.  A freight train plowing into the misplaced auto on the tracks couldn’t have done more damage.  “Its not the water, its the blowing wind,” the insurance representative tells me observing the damage, “and you’re not insured for wind damage.”  He tells me to relax, contemplate my options, and try to file another claim in three hundred and sixty-five days.

My 2012 morel season kicked off with a gift from fellow shroomer Art.  Dried delectables from last years hunt spurred a frenzy with in me that has yet to be quenched.

Lost in a sea of concrete and brick.  Navigating through the jungles of steel and glass.

Each individual light was hand-crafted with the utmost care.  Rogue Amish craftsmen, who renounced their renouncement of all things electrical, oversaw the construction.  Each light took a painstaking three hundred and sixty-five hours to complete.  All three hundred and sixty-five lights were wired to illuminate the darkness with in three hundred and sixty-five seconds of sunset.

My Mom and I share a very special friendship, one that we have both worked for.  She’s always been there for me, but also helped me stand on my own two feet and get to where I am today.  When I think about all of the memories we have shared it really warms my heart.  Like… how about all of those school field trips she went on with me and my classes… or the auditions and jobs she drove me to when I was a kid.  There were the themed bday parties and sleepovers she let me have.  Or the ‘gopher teeth’ face (see below) she would make when my little sis and I would make her angry.  Even when the answer was ‘no’ I later appreciated why.  The late night phone calls she spent up with me during college – I never felt rushed to get off of the phone.  She helped shape me.  We are very similar and also very different.  It’s the love that binds us, but the friendship that keeps us so close.

I’m very thankful for my Mother, my Friend.

I love you Mom and even though we are miles apart today because you are in Europe enjoying a very well deserved trip to Belgium, we anxiously await your return so we can celebrate with you.  Always, Sarah

Thanks to Carol & Charlie from Artists Eyes Photography for capturing these images for us.

We were entirely alone and we knew it.  Wandering for days had become our only respite from this simple fact.  Jim kept say we were at the end of the world.  A place where time fails to hold sway over anyone or anything.  It’s all in a perpetual state of decay, he’d say passing any old farm in any old Midwest town.  He was just incensed over the loss of his last can of beer to some vagabonds who’d robbed us a week prior.

Are there requirements to join?  Do embrace the concept of non-discrimination?  Would a feline be welcome on the grounds or would an inter-species war ensue?