Love Gifts from The Snape.
Coffee tastes so good this morning. 
Our study is dark and cozy, all the thick burgundy curtains are closed, The Snape is drinking a Rock-star while sitting in the rickety chair in front of my art table, reading a no-doubt-harrowing experience of an American Civil War slave girl for a class, and all the kids are parceled off for the morning.
Our study is a particularly interesting room in our house. Nobody outside our family is really invited in here, the kids only pop in and out to read or grab art supplies. There are curiosity cabinets full of artifacts our family has collected on archaeological digs, from clay toys that date to the time of Moses to Elizabethan clay pipes, all displayed.
There's comfy chairs (although The Snape chooses my two-hundred year old wooden chair that always rocks uncomfortably), shelves of books and art supplies. It's really a library. There's a dark scarlet and rich teal Persian rug that warms up the room, with the house's original beam floors exposed around the edges. The high walls are hung with Replica medieval tapestries and mine and my Mother's framed art, and dark wood shelves run along near the the tippy top of walls holding strange and wonderful artifacts. There are so many floor to ceiling windows. It's a wonderful room. We all love the quiet it naturally seems to evoke in us.
The Snape spends the bulk of his time in here, sitting in front of his fantastic computer that I love using. I also love his books on the tall shelf behind me, and his precise, organized style. Me? I'm the opposite. My shelves are full of Grimm, Rackham, Froud, and a lifetime collection of children's books. Although my area seems like chaos, everyone always says they love how it all comes together. The Snape is severe as I am whimsical. And for us, it seems to work perfectly, so long as my whimsy remains somewhat contained (coughs).
There's a lamp on my desk that he made for me. He's both meticulously studious, and a creative genius. Undoubtedly most people say that of their loved ones. I'm the rare few who says that without any exaggeration, and without words to properly convey. Five years ago this last Christmas Day, he woke me just after the sun rose, and with a thermos of coffee in hand and a basket full of secrets, he took me to our special place, a primitive forest that has in it the largest trees I've seen in this area. They are sycamores and oaks, and the sycamores sprawl out on the ground like a fairy's jungle gym. It's magic.
.
He helped me climb up the slanting, white trunk and then we sat, he poured the coffee. It was bitterly cold, but was so beautiful. Then, he gave me a present of an antique book of Shakespeare's complete collection (yes, it was ginormous), and the read to me some of Romeo's most romantic lines. Then, he helped me rise, got down on one knee, and with a ring of gold and jade asked me to marry him.
Swoon.
He carved our initials in the tree with the date.
So, this year on the fifth anniversary of his proposal, he made me a lamp from said tree, complete with a carving on the wood in the shape of a sycamore leaf, and inside the leaf he carved 'Marry me '09.' On it, is carefully and securely hanging my engagement ring and several glass beads the color of the winter forest.
When that man decides to give me a gift of the heart, he is second to no man. He puts the whole of himself when he gifts things to me.
On that note, I need to get around and go pick up The Youngest Child, which means I need to get out of my maxi skirt, tank top and comfy sweater and take a shower. It's so cold though! And I need another cup of coffee first x
Our study is dark and cozy, all the thick burgundy curtains are closed, The Snape is drinking a Rock-star while sitting in the rickety chair in front of my art table, reading a no-doubt-harrowing experience of an American Civil War slave girl for a class, and all the kids are parceled off for the morning.
Our study is a particularly interesting room in our house. Nobody outside our family is really invited in here, the kids only pop in and out to read or grab art supplies. There are curiosity cabinets full of artifacts our family has collected on archaeological digs, from clay toys that date to the time of Moses to Elizabethan clay pipes, all displayed.
There's comfy chairs (although The Snape chooses my two-hundred year old wooden chair that always rocks uncomfortably), shelves of books and art supplies. It's really a library. There's a dark scarlet and rich teal Persian rug that warms up the room, with the house's original beam floors exposed around the edges. The high walls are hung with Replica medieval tapestries and mine and my Mother's framed art, and dark wood shelves run along near the the tippy top of walls holding strange and wonderful artifacts. There are so many floor to ceiling windows. It's a wonderful room. We all love the quiet it naturally seems to evoke in us.
The Snape spends the bulk of his time in here, sitting in front of his fantastic computer that I love using. I also love his books on the tall shelf behind me, and his precise, organized style. Me? I'm the opposite. My shelves are full of Grimm, Rackham, Froud, and a lifetime collection of children's books. Although my area seems like chaos, everyone always says they love how it all comes together. The Snape is severe as I am whimsical. And for us, it seems to work perfectly, so long as my whimsy remains somewhat contained (coughs).
There's a lamp on my desk that he made for me. He's both meticulously studious, and a creative genius. Undoubtedly most people say that of their loved ones. I'm the rare few who says that without any exaggeration, and without words to properly convey. Five years ago this last Christmas Day, he woke me just after the sun rose, and with a thermos of coffee in hand and a basket full of secrets, he took me to our special place, a primitive forest that has in it the largest trees I've seen in this area. They are sycamores and oaks, and the sycamores sprawl out on the ground like a fairy's jungle gym. It's magic.
.
He helped me climb up the slanting, white trunk and then we sat, he poured the coffee. It was bitterly cold, but was so beautiful. Then, he gave me a present of an antique book of Shakespeare's complete collection (yes, it was ginormous), and the read to me some of Romeo's most romantic lines. Then, he helped me rise, got down on one knee, and with a ring of gold and jade asked me to marry him.
Swoon.
He carved our initials in the tree with the date.
So, this year on the fifth anniversary of his proposal, he made me a lamp from said tree, complete with a carving on the wood in the shape of a sycamore leaf, and inside the leaf he carved 'Marry me '09.' On it, is carefully and securely hanging my engagement ring and several glass beads the color of the winter forest.
When that man decides to give me a gift of the heart, he is second to no man. He puts the whole of himself when he gifts things to me.
On that note, I need to get around and go pick up The Youngest Child, which means I need to get out of my maxi skirt, tank top and comfy sweater and take a shower. It's so cold though! And I need another cup of coffee first x
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