Her favorite painting.  It was the view from her bedroom window.   Snow covering the rooftops of the city and blanketing the streets.

“It’s time” she thought.  “Time to be there”.

Then she disappeared into the painting.


She hurried along the quiet street to her little house.  Past the bright lights of a neighboring bistro.  Past the little market on the corner.


A few snow flakes drifted down and caught in her hair like diamonds.



She filled her basket with glittering glass balls.

Tangles of shimmering angel tinsel.

A tarnished vintage star.


incense cedar bough

She filled her basket with  armfuls  balsam boughs.

Boughs to make into garlands.

Fragrant boughs to fill every room with their incense perfume.



Rooms leading one to the other, enfilade.

Rooms with ancient wooden floors that creaked and complained.



She would take the shimmering tinsel and form it into angel wings.

Delicate creations to catch the light.



Fantasy angel wings.

Fashioned for each window overlooking her tiny garden.



Nothing would be forgotten.

Even the ancient fountain heads would be crowned with garlands of balsam.


Carrying armfuls of happiness she hurried through the pristine snow covered streets leaving scarlet footprints in the snow.  Her ruby slippers were taking her home.  Home to her little house in Paris.  Une petite maison.









    • I love that my enchanted cottage in Paris is large enough to share with all who take the journey with me. It is a bit chilly in Paris this morning. A slight draft around the windows has caught my angel wings. They appear to be floating in the heavens.

    • It is such a joy to return to my little house in Paris. I hung the angel wings. They were a marvelous manipulations of tinsel wire and imagination. Early Sunday morning I scoured the flea market for heavy moss green velvet curtains for those drafty windows. Alas. No luck but always an exciting adventure.
      Happy days!! V.

      • AH,wearing spiffy angel wings, I will keep my green eyes peeled, peeled for your heavy moss green velvet drapes tomorrow at the Clignancourt Flea Market. As you know, the fog has been thick here as Pea Green Soup. ~T.

      • Virginia………I have run off to your little house in Paris many times during this holiday season, just to sit in the quite and gaze out the window. I saw Theadora dash by several times, it was difficult, as the fog was so thick, but you can always recognize her with those marvelous hats! One day I shall run down the stairs and catch her and we shall off to Clignancourt go! I lovingly call it Klingon Court after my beloved Star Trek……..lol. Oh, how I miss Paris. Love and Kisses to you both my beloved friends.

      • We were there!! We just missed you in that pea soup fog. Theadora and I were dashing off to Clignancourt to look for heavy moss green velvet curtains to hang over those beautiful but drafty windows. We didn’t find any curtains but did come back to the little house laden with vintage monogrammed linens. Drats! I smelled the heavenly aroma of your oil can and knew we had just missed our beloved Monsieur Tin Man.

    • I loved decorating my little house in Paris for Christmas. The angel wings look glorious hanging in those tall windows. The rooms are filled with the fragrance of balsam boughs – now I just have to scrub the kitchen and start my holiday baking

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