At last my love has come along
My lonely days are over
And life is like a song
At last the skies above are blue
And my heart was wrapped up in clover
The night I looked at you
I found a dream that I can speak to
A dream that I could call my own
I found a thrill to press my cheek to
A thrill that I have never known
You smiled, and then the spell was cast
And here we are in heaven
And you are mine at last
Thank you Etta Jones...
My table loom...I did find a stand that it is now sitting on, but I still have no idea who made it and what type of weaving can be done on it. I have looked it over carefully and cant find a manufacturers label. I would love to be able to weave on it but need some simple instructions or a good book explaining how to weave...Any ideas?
my solid perfumes in my vintage pill boxes...
lavender cooling mist with vintage buttons...
My very first attempt and success at felting soap...
Just some odds and ends ....
What a pretty table....
"PlainSong"
Ample make this bed. 
This is my front parlor where I keep a display of my soap, lip balm, salve, salts, dream pillows and sachets.
The west was getting out of gold, the breath of air had died of cold,when shoeing home across the white, I thought I saw a bird alight. In summer when I passed the place I had to stop and lift my face; a bird with an angelic gift was singing in it sweet and swift. No bird was singing in it now. A single leaf was on a bough, And that was all there was to see in going twice around the tree. From my advantage on a hill I judged that such a crystal chill was only adding frost to snow as gilt to gold that wouldn't show. A brush had left a crooked stroke of what was either cloud or smoke from north to south across the blue; a piercing little star was through.
