Behind the Scenes

Almost a decade ago, my husband and I looked and looked for a new home.  We found a little neglected 1940's Cape-Cod-style bungalow in the San Francisco Bay Area just over a hill from the waters of the Carquinez Straits.  We bought it.  We pushed up our sleeves.  And we loved the little house (and its gardens) back to life.  A few years into the renovation, we took a 7 hour road-trip to Disneyland as a break from everything.  During that long drive, we decided it was appropriate that our home have a name since so much of ourselves was going into the home--literally blood, sweat and tears.  It took about 100 driving miles to figure out the name, but we finally decided our home should be named "Rosehaven Cottage".

Leaving One's Heart in San Francisco

My great-great-grandparents immigrated from Glasgow, Scotland to New York City back in the late 1800's.  As my great-great-grandfather worked for the railroad as a machinist, the family moved to and lived in cities across the United States until they finally landed on the west coast in San Francisco.  My great-great-grandfather said that of all the places they'd lived across the U.S., the Bay Area was the place that most reminded him of his beloved Scotland.  That's why I'm a 4th generation Bay Area native and why my heart is always here.  

That same side of my ancestry also were early adopters of amateur photography.  I grew up looking at 100+ year old family photos of everyday life shot through the lens of an early Kodak camera.  And at the age of 4, my mother gave me an old hand-me-down Kodak brownie of my own and a roll of film.  My first photos were of my friends and a little kitty in their front garden--captured vignettes of the life of a 4 year old.  To this day, the majority of my photographs are still of friends, kitties, and gardens--captured vignettes of life being lived.

Veggies Year-Round and Roses at Christmas

The gardens that I enjoy shooting photographs of the most are my own gardens here at Rosehaven Cottage.  Like my great-grandfather, grandmother, and mother before me, I am a 4th generation Bay Area gardener.  Blessed with a temperate climate akin to southern France and Tuscany, we have a year-round kitchen garden.  In addition to the various tomatoes and string beans that are normal summer fare, we enjoy fresh lettuce and snap peas in January and roses that bloom at Christmastime.  Looking at the Christmas lights through the foggy night air as they twinkle on our picket fence and rosebushes while I can hear the foghorn leading ships up the Straits, is the quintesscential Christmas experience for me.

Making Memories

For me, life is about making those kinds of memories.  That's what makes life rich and rewarding. 

I grew up surrounded by family heirlooms--some of which I am fortunate to be surrounded by still. 

We have the old RCA Victrola that my great-great Aunt Esther bought brand new.  When I was little, my mom would crank it up every now and then and let us listen to the old Broadway soundtrack of Oklahoma or Disney's Bambi narrated by a young-adult Shirley Temple.  I was fascinated that some needles for the Victrola were metal and others were bamboo and they still played the same sounds.

I also inherited my Grammy's old recipe box along with the hand-written recipe cards that date back to when her mother, Elsie, and her aunt (Aunt Esther) wrote out the cards in fountain pen, making sure to date some of them.  To hold a recipe that is dated 1922, and know it was penned by my great-grandmother or great-great-aunt is an experience I wish everyone could enjoy.  When I make up one of their recipes and photograph or illustrate the resulting delicacy, I think of them, I'm happy that I still have a piece of them in that recipe.

Elsie and Esther's father was a German immigrant that ended up in San Francisco like my Scottish grandparents did.  A storekeeper by trade, he was also a fine craftsman of burled wood pieces.  Whenever I cut wood to make a frame or stretcher bars for one of my canvases, I think of him and know this is a piece of him in me.

And when I sketch, paint, or recreate a photograph into an art piece, it almost always has a memory attached to it.  There is a little story behind every one.  And that little story always leads back to my own.  By sharing these little memories with you, I hope that you can remember ones of your own... and then create new ones.

Click here if you'd like to read more about how Rosehaven Cottage came to be