On Preservation, Perception, and the Power of Assumption: A Most Hopeful Reflection on Section 106 and the Times We Are In

My dear Mermaid Darlings,

Let us settle in with a warm cuppa tea, for this may be one of those conversations that deserve a quiet heart and an open mind. I speak today not in haste but in that still, steady voice that arises when one has seen too much to be shaken and yet loves too much to remain silent.

As of late, there has been much chatter and some alarm surrounding the shifting tides in historic preservation, particularly in the wake of the DOGE initiative and its reach into departments that many of us hold dear. Among these, Section 106, that gentle but mighty guardian of our architectural memory, has been whispered about in worried tones and outright outrage.

But I invite you not into outrage, dear reader—I invite you into clarity, courage, and perhaps a bit of enchantment. For all things that seem to be falling may, in truth, be finding their place.

Let us walk together into this conversation—not with fear, but with a flame of reverence and resolve and with the unshakable knowledge that history is not only what has passed but what we choose to preserve.

In an age where so much is spoken of division and depletion, it is, I believe, a most elegant rebellion to stand in unwavering hopefulness—to perceive all things through the golden lens of possibility rather than despair. And so it is with the recent rumblings surrounding federal shifts and adjustments supporting specific cultural programmes, including institutions long devoted to curating our nation’s more difficult histories.

Some may interpret such developments as endings—closures, erasures, or acts of disregard. Yet, I would gently propose another lens entirely—one less concerned with what is seemingly removed and more enchanted by what is now being readied, for those whose vision, devotion, and timing are most aligned.

As a woman devoted to the preservation and resurrection of Chinsegut Hill, I have long trained my gaze not upon what is presently visible but upon the shape of what is forming. I hold a vantage not rooted in current appearances but in an elevated understanding—that all things are always working toward the realisation of one’s deeper call.

Thus, I do not interpret these changes as acts of diminishment but rather as divine rearrangements—a refinement of stewardship. Where once there were entitlements and committees, there shall now be custodians with soul, with a heart-born reverence for heritage and story.

Indeed, it is my thoughtful observation that President Trump, far from scorning history, has often spoken with unmistakable admiration for architectural splendour, classic craftsmanship, and the protection of American beauty. In various addresses, he has expressed fondness for grand historical spaces and their refinement. What some may view as dissolution, I view as delegation—a quiet transfer of care from impersonal institutions to individuals of conviction.

And so, I do not see cuts—I see clarity. I see the path cleared for those who are prepared to step forward with honour, vision, and respect for legacy. I see Chinsegut Hill is not neglected but is awaiting her rightful steward. And in my inward life, I already walk her halls.

Section 106, the noble provision of the National Historic Preservation Act, remains a guiding light—a safeguard that ensures that historic treasures are deeply considered and thoughtfully evaluated before being touched. And I, for one, am not only willing but wholly prepared to honour it—not from compulsion, but from a personal pledge to the past and those who shaped it.

If grants no longer cradle the old houses, then we must cradle them—those of us who speak gently to walls, mend shutters like prayer and understand that ivy has a memory. We, who light candles in the windows of history, so others may find their way back to meaning.

I believe this moment in time, however controversial, is an invitation to reimagine—to build businesses, buildings, and restore our intimacy with place, heritage, and reverence.

And amidst this unfolding conversation, a new decree has fluttered forth from the highest office in the land—a call not of destruction but of design.

Donald Trump’s latest executive order is shaking up the architectural landscape in a rather remarkable fashion. With a bold and unapologetic nod to tradition, he has revived his prior vision for “Beautiful Federal Civic Architecture,” directing that all new federal buildings honour classical and traditional design principles. This is a strikingly elegant gesture in a world so often swept away by the stark and impersonal.

As part of nearly one hundred directives issued upon his return to office, this 2025 initiative calls upon government leaders to ensure that public buildings are visually identifiable, rooted in regional heritage, and, above all, beautiful. His aim? To uplift and beautify public spaces and to reintroduce a sense of grandeur, order, and national pride in the very bones of our built environment.

Now, whether one leans in favour or not of such measures politically, there is something undeniably stirring—even comforting—in the notion that classic architecture is defended at the federal level. It is competitive that our beautiful historic buildings may once again whisper stories instead of merely standing cold and hollow.

As someone whose heart beats in rhythm with floorboards and finials, with brick hearths and timeworn thresholds, I cannot help but feel that this moment—yes, this very moment—is poised for something truly wondrous.

It is a turning of the page, not an ending, a gentle passing of the torch, not into obscurity, but into the careful, capable hands of those who still believe in beauty, legacy, and our collective responsibility to remember.

And remember, we shall.

For some of us, preservation is not policy—it is destiny.

And so I live, speak, and act from that certainty.

Chinsegut Hill is mine to love, to tend, to awaken.

And so it shall be.

Most affably yours til my next swim, R

The Quiet Death of Brooksville’s Beauty: When Greed Outweighs Green

Never Get in the Way of Progress—Ba Humbug

  

My Dear Mermaid Darlings, 

{ One of the most delightful notions in having a blog is that I can whinge on about things that have put me out of joint. I have something to say about everything, and if you've been here long enough, you know that; however, from my recent past experiences, I've had the piss taken out of me for some of the posts I've written, and there have been some folks that want me to know I shouldn't be writing about particular notions.

Because heaven forfend, I speak my truth and have an opinion about what swirls around in my curious natured mind. See where I’m going with this; perfect? I thought you might. It's the turncoat nature of the quizzing from others that now leads me to dress down the individuals for their impudence. I am adamant and refuse to be controlled through leveraging, psychological manipulation or bullied into feeling I’m bound and should keep my gob shut; I choose to write honourable posts on a blog for all the world to read, especially my hometown that i love and care for so much! I walk in love, kindness, and grace, creating beauty and uplifting others. Fear and unkindness have no place here. I wish you peace on your journey, just as I have found on mine.}

My throat chakra has flung itself wide open, and silent no more shall I be.

Indeed, today has been one of those cottage days—nightgown, slippers, and a dishwater face to match the grey skies. But amidst the slow simmer of tea and thought, I was reminded of a particular passage in one of the many books chronicling the life of dear Beatrix Potter. It spoke of her remarkable quest to buy up vast stretches of the countryside—not for vanity or conquest but to protect the natural world from being trampled by progress-hungry prats with shovels, blueprints, and blind ambition.
She succeeded gloriously, preserving nearly four thousand acres, farms and all, for generations yet unborn. But in doing so, she ruffled many a feather—especially those belonging to men who, at the time, held a monopoly on both land and literature. They muttered and scowled, offended by the audacity of a woman—an artist and author, no less—who dared to interrupt their plans for industrial sprawl with a firm “no, thank you.” It seems they believed she ought to be reined in, reminded of her “place,” and politely step aside for “progress.”

To that, I say: bravo, Beatrix. May your stubborn magic and reverence for the land echo forever in hedgerows and fields.

And I must admit, her story stirs a kindred fire within me, for I, too, have grown increasingly disenchanted with the happenings in my own little village of Brooksville, Florida. There is beauty here, yes—but also a creeping carelessness, and I cannot, in good conscience, remain a silent bystander. The land, the legacy, and the spirit of a place matter deeply.

With a heart full of love, I speak now not in rebellion, but in devotion to nature, heritage, and the quiet magic that deserves to be defended.
Though I live in America, the spirit of Beatrix Potter lives most ardently in me. Her love for the land, her refusal to bow to the demands of so-called progress, and her quiet rebellion against the ruin of beauty—I feel it all like an echo in my own bones.

My parents reside on the quiet curve of a cul-de-sac that, for decades, was flanked by untouched forest. Grand trees stood like ancient sentinels, guarding the land in leafy silence. But alas, that peace was shattered only months ago. Where once there was birdsong and breeze, there are now backhoes tearing through root and limb—an entire wood being razed for the construction of numerous small homes. And while my heart is utterly gutted, I must admit: perhaps this is what I needed precisely. A little shake-up often invites a deeper reflection.

I have always known I am not like most. Many find joy in packed neighbourhoods and tight-knit communities where every house touches the next. But I am of a different persuasion. I find my soul in wildflowers and distance to breathe. The land, once taken, cannot be returned—unless one has money to roast, and even then, the spirit cannot be replanted.

And so, I have made a vow: I shall buy up as much land as my bank account will afford me, and i will do so to preserve it. I shall take it under my wing, care for it, and nurture it as if she is a living, breathing soul in need of safeguarding. In addition, this brings me to Chinsegut Hill, our beloved historic site or what once felt historic.
Recently, I attempted to visit the site only to be met with a locked gate and a most curious sight: a mermaid statue posted proudly at the entrance. Now, as a mermaid mystic myself, I hold no prejudice against such symbols. But there is a time, a place, and above all, a tasteful manner for everything. When preservation is replaced with novelty, we lose not just style, but our soul.
Statues, monuments, decorations—these things must serve the story of a place, not distract from it. And sadly, the choices being made of late appear more akin to a party shop spree than a curated homage to our heritage. Led-blue lights strung along historic lamp posts, garish wreaths, and snow displays in subtropical Florida—it all feels a bit like a fever dream with no curator at the helm.

I’m not here to complain but to care—vocally and visibly.

I once attempted to serve this community more formally. I ran for city council but was denied over a boundary line discrepancy—only 500 feet shy of eligibility. Meanwhile, others hold seats using addresses from abandoned homes.
I was told, and I quote: “Write a complaint, but it won’t do much. It’ll just be filed away” when i brought this to light.

So now, I battle in my way: manifesting my heart's desires and writing truth plainly and poetically for all to see. No man shall keep back the tide of purpose when the sea within me is rising.

It is often declared that evil prevails when good folk do nothing. Well, I am doing my bit. And if you, dear reader, live in my little village of Brooksville, Florida, I invite you to do yours, not through outrage, but through thoughtful action, quiet strength, and boundless hope.
For every seed of goodness planted today may bloom into beauty tomorrow—and beauty, my friend, is always worth preserving.

If you are still interested in attending our little cottage core tea party at Chinsegut Hill, please purchase a ticket in my Etsy shoppe. We shall have a whale of a time.

Most affably yours til my next swim, R 

Our First Chinsegut Hill Social Gathering!

My dear mermaid hearts,

 

This little niche on ye ole' web has been a neglected place since the end of January, my apologies, darlings, it's been for good reason. 

There have been many moving parts that have happened since December. I have manifested a fantastic list of notions that i promised to tell and astonish you simultaneously. I manifested a charming Florida Cracker-style home free and clear (completely paid for), a lump sum of money, numerous assets in an estate, and all with no capital gains. I am still manifesting another huge desire, of which I am chuffed to bits about.

But we mustn't share that until it is in my 3D. It will remain a mermaid secret in the sand until then. Some folks are reading my work, and their plots possess the odour of graverobbing about them. What my words or past experiences have not taught them, the coming events will. 

It will astonish you, though, and then perhaps you darling dear folks will believe me and want to jump aboard to rewire your subconscious mind to create the life of your dreams, too.

In addition to that, I've been in touch with my gifts as a channelled medium, and my YouTube channel went viral, and there's movement on my social media and blog stats. It feels so wonderful to be rewarded financially for my gifts. 

Now, mind you, on my YouTube channel i am, for the most part, channelling for celebrities, which brings in revenue from AdSense, but i also sell readings on my Etsy shoppe. 

I joined Chinsegut Hill to begin yearly classes, gatherings, and retreats as part of The Carter Settlement. Our first one will be one day only in May. 

"The Tale of Merrymaid Scarlette Rose: A Sojourn into the Feminine Divine"

Come ye forth, fair sea maidens, ladies and gentlewomen of discerning spirit, for an afternoon steep'd in mirth, wisdom, and the art of Manifestation, Divine Remembrance and the Delicate Arts of Handcraft. 

May 10, 2025, Saturday

Brooksville, Florida 

Location: Chinsegut Hill

Ages: 17 & Up 

10 a.m. -3 p.m. 

35$ Per Lady

Deadline for sand dollar reservations: April 10th, 2025 

Upon this most resplendent occasion, where elegance and enchantment intertwine, every delicate detail hath been attended with the utmost refinement—nary a teacup nor tuffet left unadorned, nor a dainty morsel served without the whisper of luxury. A gathering most rare and abundant, fashioned for ladies of discerning taste who delight in the finer charms of life, this affair is a testament to grace, grandeur, and the art of lavish hospitality.

{Shouldst thou feel inclined to bestow a token of patronage, know that such generosity shall be met with deepest gratitude, ensuring that this exquisite assembly remains a beacon of beauty, fellowship, and feminine delight for seasons to come.}

You may send your donation tokens to Lady Raquel's (The Carter Settlement)

PayPal Email: Raquel@RaquelCarter.com

Message: Token of Generosity 

Submit payment of $35.00 to secure your spot in advance. Limited spots are available. 

Lady Raquel is keeping the fee low to better serve our beautiful little village of grassroots community. Building a foundation is important, which is The Carter Settlement's objective. Although the cost is relatively manageable, it will surely be a dazzlingly stunning affair. If you can think of anyone to bring along, that would be wonderful, too. Dress in your best Victorian finery. 

If you wish to utilise the donations for tax benefits, place that in your message, and the dear Lady Pearl Fairfax, who handles all notions with grace and enchantment for Lady Raquel, Mrs Fairfax will send you the written acknowledgement vouchers.} 

Please spread the word of this most joyous event!

Most affably yours til my next swim, Lady R

Surrendering, New Beginnings and Remothering

My dear mermaid hearts,

Did you pour a cuppa tea? Today, I’ve stitched together a rather different kind of letter. January, tho’ is nearly gone away it has called me once again to meander around to re-examine a few notions that have been swirling about in my Piscean mind. The word that came to me is Surrender. I spent the greater portion of December and January surrendering. The month of January in the US and very much around our big blue marble is the time to reflect and is invariably labelled a new beginning, a fresh start.

I am a woman much more in tune with my world, and i know that from my English and Celtic lineage, January is not, in fact, the new year, but rather, April is the beginning. Up until the 16th century, the start of the New Year was celebrated on April 1st after a week of festivities which began around March 25th.

Therefore, i will be arranging into action this proper calendar for festivities and traditions going forth for The Carter Settlement and the attachment of (Stillwater-A Petticoat Society), but more on that announcement at the end of this post.

As many of you dear readers and friends know, I've been slowly transforming my lil’ cottage ‘Scarlette Rose’ into my Cottage of Belonging, and with that, there were for a time some bothersome details about how to make it as cosy as i have dreamt up in my imagination. The constraints: if we look on paper, it is truly not my home in the way of actual ownership of the cottage, and yet longing for the release of my parent’s restrictions on what i can and cannot do with it. However, suppose i am to challenge my olde beliefs (which i constantly do). In that case, i am relatively quick to acknowledge if the natural complexities i have placed on myself aren't once again a self-imposed belief of limitation. I should clarify that my parents have been on board whenever I wanted to change the cottage.

Perhaps it is me learning to trust and surrender myself more and more, and then others will likewise trust me. As within, so without, as above, so below. Such longings aren't very helpful if i am paying attention to them in a disempowering way; therefore, i have taken notice and allowed the emotions to pass through as little waves encouraging me to let go and then let go some more. As i practise this exercise along with listening to new beliefs as i sleep, they are and have dissipated mostly. As ive recognised the change in my life in patterns and thoughts, I am no longer spiralling into a tailspin; this knowing is why i have such a deepened love for yearning to help other women to remember their great worth. A confident woman knows no bounds when she can provide for her life; she's not forced to settle into detrimental connections (whether from the financial leverage of a family member, friendship or a romantic relationship) when she can sustain herself financially. I speak from experience, and i never shall want another woman to have to undergo that type of inner hell, and that is why i love to inspire women and young girls to be all that they are capable of being. It is my life's work and soul's purpose.

To have our little social gatherings is one way to encourage community, and also having The Carter Settlement an actual village where we gather together and enjoy old-fashioned ways and let our beautiful, wonderful imaginations play as when we were young lasses before the world convinced us we were childish and needed to grow up and be serious. I want us to become in spirit as little children again. We all have that spirit within, and im going to encourage that freedom at The Carter Settlement. In our little gatherings and in addition to here, this place (our blog) feels most like home, my true home of belonging. It is the other extension of myself, just as Scarlette Rose Cottage is my cottage of belonging. Of all the places i can share or feel safe enough to do so, it is here on ye ol’ web; strange, isn't it? It is similar to my YouTube channel. It seems as though it would be the opposite, but for me, it's not. Perhaps, my darling, think of this ol’ timey blog as our (yours and mine) little village of seclusion, a place to come to when yearning for conversation, feeling a bit social, or merely communing around the hearth. As ive sketched and drawn and painted each small room with little furnishings, i also want to create more little rooms (chipmunk nests) of comfortability and cosiness.

Now, to pass along the notions of my creativity to the blog will be a greater task as i am not exceptionally equipped with computer skills, but i will give my level best. There's a makeshift aesthetic that i want to remain on this here ol’ blog, i dont want it to become polished and sleek. I rather enjoy the old, outdated way blogging was once upon a time, and i plan to continue forth in the cobbling aesthetic of what i have currently. Do you remember that sometime back last year, I was planning a new website? I altogether abandoned the entirety of it. It wasn't me, and if it's not broken, why fix it? It resulted in me losing the theme design, but I've made peace with it.

I have also noticed from spirit as ive been “surrendering” that i have so often been unstable in my ways, and ive been shown this is from the example of mothering with the female models in my life. It is not a blaming when i speak of this, nor should it encumber my popularity as it is my personal experience, and i am allowed to speak my truth as i see it. I was shown by spirit that we learn as little lessons from the women in our lives as we mirror them. It is no longer within me to protect and try to save others from themselves or their experiences, and that ability to allow other folks to receive their lot in life has taken me decades with which to come to terms. If i had not protected those people from the law of the harvest (a reaping of what is sown), it wouldn't have taken so long for things to change on a monumental scale. However, let me not carry on with a dishwater face of discouragement; it is up and over from this point. There is no sense in dwelling on should’ve, could’ve or would've, for that mindset is discouraging and not a postive momentum to get caught on.

Let us embark on the month of January once again for a moment, as i have something else to share, and there is no better time for me than to imagine my desires for you (my dear friends) and myself. I thought that having (re)created Stillwater—A Petticoat Society (a reimagined society loosely based on Tasha Tudor, our elderess we all love so much) several years ago (but didn't quite do much with it afterwards). That is quite alright tho’, everything is divine timing. I think what better time to commence our little haven, centred each month on the rhythms of nature and the season's rituals, sacred practices, etc., to encourage our transformational voyages together? I also plan to add the sacred wheel of the year through themes all strung together with an English Victorian mermaid comely semblance.

In 2024, the two words Trust and Surrender became words that brought more understanding of what my inner being desired for me to acknowledge that I wanted and required to grow into my best self deeply. I have never included you, my friends, in sharing but have recently felt the longing for connectedness with women with a smouldering enthusiasm.

Amid my quiet life, ive spent many o’ years in employment with great attempts to create a kindred ethereal realm for us as gentlewomen curious about how to create a life we love. I believe last year (the most challenging year as my spirit allowed for a towering moment and I finally surrendered my egoic will), i was able to uncover my once incapability to lean into my delicate womanliness. Other women that ive admired and observed seem to embrace their kindred nature towards other women effortlessly. i can say I've tried, to a great degree, i might add. In truth, dear heart, it never stuck or held for long before i was returning begrudgingly to my masculine self-protective tendencies. I can now share with you why this was, and possibly, if needed, you will find comfort in my words.

I feel relatively proud of myself as i did (in 2024) manage to get much of the progress of what I learned into my visibility, tho’ no one on the outside would see it unless they've been up close sitting beside me, paying tight attention. Even then, one can never have the full perspective, can they? But, in truth, i believe that when you read my online diary entries (letters to you), you can feel it in my words.

In my masculine energy, i am very stubborn and unyielding at times; however, as i slowly meander through January, remaining grounded after having lovingly scrutinised my unwillingness to surrender for so many o’ years, and presently i am learning to be softly gentle with myself by lending a loving kindness to the little lass that so desperately needed remothering. Oft’ times, we may discover that place in our lives as we peer through the looking glass and accept our plight for the woman we are now and let go of the woman we were once.

Jeffrey Shawn has noticed on many accounts and told me he can see extraordinary change. In several settings, when i would have leaned towards a particular response, i have made opposite decisions, and tho’ i might have taken a course of action verbally or acted upon my emotions, i have been soft but also exhibited great strength. It is undoubtedly my efforts and inner work that I am most thankful to have done. My heart feels settled in peace and clarity with an intimate acknowledgement that i clearly can see how much i have evolved. Speaking in a positive way towards myself is rather healthy, and truthfully, i very much desire to see my world where women commonly talk highly of themselves and not feel a tingle of shyness or feel judged by other women for exuding self-confidence. It bestows heartening encouragement to my dreamy piscean spirit. In a pretty beckoning way of saying, dear friends, that I am learning to re~mother myself in many ways. Perhaps I shouldn't say lack (per se), but this untouched part of myself had atrophied for so many years. I never quite knew why i was an abrasive person (in some areas of my personality) nor how they formed. I was always aware that there was a coldness to me, even as a mother, when i was raising my darling cherubs. I do not fault myself because I’m learning (relearning) how to love deeply all the parts of myself. As i was thinking of a lovely word for the month of January, the word “Surrender” came to me during meditation. Oft’ times, we encounter notions in grim ways, and i can't help but believe it is from our own undoing. Shall i speak for myself here?

I have been reading many of Sarah Ban Breathe's books, and they deeply resonate with me. Are you anything like me, and buy books tho’ not quite sure when you will get round’ to reading them, but know you will one day. I'd never heard of Sarah, especially in the heightened days of popularity from her Simple Abundance book. Then, one day in 2020, i was looking for Victorian traditions and came upon her book Mrs Sharp's Traditions: Reviving Victorian Family Celebrations of Comfort & Joy. It pricked my ears, and that's when i was able to channel Tasha Tudor more deeply. I instantly felt her spirit, and it was as if she was sitting next to me, giving me the truest perspective of how to create our little gatherings. The channelling experience was one of wonderment and excitement. My veins felt exuberant with so much creativity and ideas i could barely contain myself. As of late, those same feelings have erupted again, bringing me to our next and first little social gathering for the books at Chinsegut Hill. I am happy to announce that (until i have the land for The Carter Settlement), we will utilise the beautiful Victorian historic location Chinsegut Hill, our version of Beatrix Potter’s Hilltop. I will share the pamphlet this week on the blog, and if you aren't able to come, i will share all the wonders of the event through my YouTube channel. I plan to have it all recorded and nicely presented so you can be involved and a part of our community, Stillwater.

“An Enchanting Assembly: A Victorian Mermaid’s Ode to Self-Love at Chinsegut Hill”
April 5th, 2025

So, in conclusion, my dear mermaid hearts, let me summarise. Hello there, my dear hearts, and happy new year. May we find peace, expansion, enlightenment, growth, kindness, and deep friendship in our togetherness. I love You.

Most affably yours til' my next swim, R