Sixty is as sixty does.

You are looking at sixty candles on one not too big cake. It illuminated the entire dining room and was carried to me by my son with out stretched arms. No singeing was noted.


My husband kindly brought me breakfast in bed. We do have proper bed trays in this house, as well as matching china and butter knives... many years later I have learned to embrace the love and over look the look.

Some day soon I am going to write about my youngest brother. For now, suffice it to say, he is a kind young Franciscan Priest in Manhattan. He sent me the gift above. He went to our favorite apothecary, sniffed and snuffled until he found the scent he thought I would love. His taste is impeccable.

And then there is the birthday cloche. I will admit I got away with murder this week. I mean really, was I going to leave THAT in the antique store? Explaining to my husband how I had always wanted a cloche, he murmured he hadn't known. He is scared of it and I am glad.


Many, many lovely cards arrived. Old friends remembered and as I sat with a glass of wine and opened them according to the color of the envelope my heart was touched and my funny bone tickled. This one just cracks me up again and again. Same brother, Father Stephen. The world can not have too many silly Priests.

I love the way he has written, "better and better with time". Anyone else might write better and better with age, but he knows when not to hit a nerve.

Elizabeth remembered and made me Birthday Jam. Pink Lady Jam. She gets me and that is no easy task. Not only was there jam but luscious honey from historic gardens here in Annapolis and a massive chunk of gold bubble bath glitter, I can only hope to look good enough for Mr. Bond. Of course everything from Elizabeth is also from Chris. I love trying to picture my son in Lush listening to the ins and outs of bubbleland.
Pink glorious pink. Another brother and his family. There is something so special about being sent flowers. I need to send more flowers, I forget just how lovely they are to receive.



Passion on so many levels. The horses, the colors, the feel of the silk, the memories, the box!

Someday I will photograph and write about my collection. It began with a gift from my father when I was twenty-one. My husband is one to keep up with tradition.


And so we sat that day in Bistro Francais lingering over lunch and champagne.

I was pleased the small staff gathered and sang Happy Birthday to me, my husband joined in from across the table and I was comforted by the familiarity of his voice.



Sixty is is great so far.