Benevolent Neglect; The Surprising Secret to Personal Growth, Manifestation, and Trusting the Process

My dear Mermaid Darlings of Stillwater Petticoat Society,

If you have ever found yourself worrying over a dream, checking constantly for signs of progress, or wondering whether your efforts have amounted to anything at all, then I suspect this little tale may be for you.

I was standing beneath the awning at Scarlette Rose Cottage some time ago, doing nothing particularly remarkable, merely tidying a planter and pulling away a few tired leaves, when I found myself laughing over a small discovery.

You see, there is a pot of ivy tucked away there that receives very little attention from me. I do not hover over it; I do not inspect every leaf; nor do I spend my afternoons wondering whether it is content with its circumstances. I offer water when needed, remove the occasional brown leaf, and then leave it to its own affairs.

And it thrives, not merely survives; thrives.

Meanwhile, there have been other plants to which I have devoted far more attention. I have shifted them from one place to another; worried over every blemish; adjusted their surroundings; examined their leaves; pondered their future; and, if I am entirely honest, nearly loved them to death.

The ivy beneath the awning simply grows.

The observation followed me indoors and settled beside me for the remainder of the day, for I realised that this little pot of ivy had quietly taught me something about personal growth, manifestation, slow living, and the curious art of trusting the process.

The phrase that came to mind was one I had not heard in years: benevolent neglect.

The words lingered with me long after I had set down my gardening gloves.

For much of my life, I believed that devotion required constant attention. If something mattered deeply, surely one must think about it continually. One must worry over it; labour over it; and must keep a vigilant eye upon it lest it somehow slip away unnoticed.

There is something rather curious about our inclination to interfere with the very things we most dearly hope will flourish. We plant a seed and almost immediately wish to uncover it, merely to reassure ourselves that it has remembered how to grow. Yet nature has never been persuaded by impatience.

The gardener prepares the earth with care; she plants faithfully; she waters when the season requires it; and then, with remarkable good sense, she leaves the matter in gentler hands than her own. The baker places the loaf within the oven and trusts the warmth to perform its quiet office. Even the tide, faithful as an old friend, slips away from the shore only to return without invitation, without coaxing, and without ever consulting our anxious hearts.

Very little in this world responds kindly to being tugged at every few moments.

I have begun to wonder whether what appears to be neglect is sometimes nothing more than trust wearing gardening clothes; a calm willingness to provide what is needed, and then to resist the peculiar temptation of constant interference. It is not indifference at all, but affection tempered by wisdom.

As I stood beneath the little awning and watched the ivy making its patient ascent, I found myself thinking of the many quiet hopes that have accompanied me through the years; this little cottage with its stone walls and lace curtains; the books that continue to gather themselves one page at a time; the paintings waiting patiently upon the easel; the gatherings I dream of hosting for kindly women who long for beauty and gentleness; and all the unseen seeds that have found their place within the soil of ordinary days.

We are so often persuaded that every dream requires continual inspection, when perhaps many possess the sturdy constitution of ivy rather than the delicate disposition of an orchid. They ask for roots; a little nourishment; honest light; and the grace of being left undisturbed whilst they attend to their own becoming.

It seems to me that every worthwhile thing observes its own season. There is a time when our sleeves ought to be rolled high, and our hands made gloriously untidy with honest work; yet there is another, no less important, when wisdom quietly folds those same hands together and waits without complaint. The difficulty, I suspect, lies not in labouring faithfully, but in recognising when labour has finished its part.

The most important work is so often hidden from view. Roots deepen where no audience gathers. Branches strengthen long before they offer shade. Beneath the surface, where applause never wanders, life goes steadily about its business, asking neither permission nor praise.

The world, of course, delights in urgency. It urges us to strive more loudly, hurry more quickly, and measure our progress against every passing soul who happens to cross our path.

Nature offers no such counsel. The oak keeps no account of its rings; the rose does not concern herself with tomorrow’s bloom whilst opening today’s; and the ivy, dear steadfast thing that it is, simply continues upward with quiet determination, asking nothing of anyone except a wall willing to receive her.

Perhaps that is why I found such unexpected comfort beneath that humble awning.

The ivy was not attempting to impress me. It was not glancing toward the neighbouring flowers to see whether they had climbed farther. It was not fretting over yesterday nor borrowing tomorrow’s concerns. It simply accepted the day’s small work, fastening one tender leaf after another, trusting that enough small faithfulness would one day become abundance.

There is a lesson tucked quietly inside such ordinary things, though nature seldom raises her voice to deliver it. She merely continues her patient demonstrations until, one ordinary afternoon, we are finally still enough to notice.

Perhaps our task is not always to accomplish more, but to tend what has been entrusted to us with faithful hands; then step back with equal grace and allow the unseen work to unfold in its appointed season. There is a curious peace in such an arrangement; almost a covenant between ourselves and the dreams we have planted. We shall do our part with glad hearts, and leave the growing to life itself.

If we listen very closely, I rather believe the ivy has been whispering the same counsel all along. Grow steadily; reach gently; trust the season before you; and let tomorrow concern itself with tomorrow, for today’s quiet faithfulness is already enough.

Most affably yours ’til my next enchanting swim,

Lady Raquel

When the Striving Grows Quiet

My dear Mermaid Darlings and cherished friends of Stillwater Petticoat Society,

This morning arrived with a curious sort of clarity; not the loud kind that announces itself from a rooftop, but the gentle sort that slips through an open window whilst the kettle hums and the world has not yet quite awakened.

I have spent much of my life believing that if I loved a little harder, worked a little longer, gave a little more of myself, then perhaps I would finally feel seen. Many of us who grew up feeling overlooked learn this lesson early; we become caretakers, peacemakers, and steady hands for everyone around us, often without realising that we have quietly abandoned ourselves in the process.

Yet there comes a season when one begins to understand that whatever we most long to receive from others must first be supplied from within.

If we desire appreciation, we must learn to appreciate ourselves. If we desire kindness, we must extend it inward. If we wish for someone to fill our cup, we must first discover the spring that already rests beneath our own feet.

The difficulty lies in accepting that no person can wholly provide what the soul requires. They may add sweetness to our tea; they may walk beside us for a little while; they may offer encouragement when the road grows steep. Yet the deeper work belongs to us alone.

I believe that is why so many of us find ourselves arriving at a peculiar crossroads, one where striving begins to lose its charm and peace becomes far more attractive than pursuit.

Perhaps that is not surrender at all, perhaps it is wisdom. 

For those of you listening faithfully to my subliminals, you may have noticed something rather curious. Occasionally, a recording that once brought comfort suddenly feels irritating, and you find yourself wanting to switch it off altogether. Many people become concerned when this happens, though I have found it to be a familiar part of the voyage.

The subconscious mind rarely welcomes change with open arms. It prefers the old pathways, even when they no longer serve us. When a new belief begins to take root, the mind often pushes back. A little resistance is not necessarily a sign that something is wrong; often, it is evidence that something is shifting.

Persist gently, my dear.

Not with force, nor frustration, but with the quiet certainty that a gardener brings to her seeds. She does not dig them up each morning to see whether they have grown; she simply tends them and trusts the process.

If you have not yet collected the free subliminals, you are welcome to email (Raquel@RaquelCarter.com) me, and I shall happily send them along. I continue to share new videos on YouTube throughout the week, along with regular live gatherings for those walking this path beside me.

Here at Scarlette Rose Cottage, life has found its rhythm once more.

The shelves now stand in place, and after nearly two years of boxes, wrappings, and little piles waiting their turn, I can finally see the shape of home emerging again. A few projects still wait patiently in the wings. I hope to finish the fireplace board very soon, perhaps this week if energy allows, though next week seems equally content to receive it.

Most days, I retreat to the cottage and lose myself amongst stories.

Two new children’s books sit open upon my desk, waiting for their next chapters, and I confess I am quite impatient to begin the illustrations. There is something magical about reaching that stage, when words begin to ask for colour.

Sweet little Buckaroo has also returned home from the taxidermist. I shall be creating a glass case for him and hope to fashion something reminiscent of the cover of The Tale of the Christmas Bunnies. It will require a rather grand shelf when finished, though I suspect he would approve of such arrangements.

There are many adventures ahead; quiet ones, creative ones, and perhaps a few unexpected ones as well.

If you should like to keep company with me between letters, I share glimpses of daily cottage life on Instagram stories each day. It remains the one place where I gather most regularly, and I should be delighted to see you there.

As for me, the dough is waiting upon the kitchen counter, and a week’s worth of bread will not make itself. The afternoon sun has begun to shift across the windows, and that seems as good a signal as any to tie on an apron and carry on.

Until next time, my dear friends, may your cup be filled from within, your heart remain light, and your days unfold with a little more peace than striving.

Most affably yours 'til my next enchanting swim, Lady Raquel

A Letter on Devotion, Weariness, and the Quiet Mercy of Letting Go

My dearest Mermaid Darlings,

and you, my cherished Stillwater Petticoat Society,

I wish to speak today of something tender, and I ask your patience, for this is not a matter that yields to haste.

I have noticed, as perhaps you have too, the many beautiful images that drift across our screens: bread rising, children barefoot in fields, milk poured warm from the pail, homes ordered by prayer and promise. Often, these scenes are accompanied by declarations of devotion — words of service, faith, and holy intention.

There is nothing inherently unlovely in this.

And yet.

There are truths one may only speak after she has lived long enough inside them.

I was raised in religion. First Pentecostal, then Mormon, for many decades of my life. I knew the hymns by heart. I knew the rules by memory. I knew how to perform goodness, obedience, cheerfulness, and sacrifice until my body could no longer distinguish devotion from erasure.

And I say this with care, not accusation; the cost was very high. 

I do not speak of belief itself, but of the weight placed upon women in its name. Of the quiet expectation to endure endlessly. Of the sanctification of exhaustion. Of the way suffering is so often mistaken for virtue.

There were seasons when I smiled and served while something vital inside me slowly disappeared. There were years when the promise of goodness required me to deny my own knowing. There was a time — and I say this plainly, because it matters — when I was suicidal, not because I lacked faith, but because I had been taught to abandon myself in order to keep it.

I know now that many women live this way sincerely. Lovingly. With their whole hearts. I also know that sincerity does not prevent harm.

It is difficult to name this without sounding unkind, and so I will be precise:

I have often found that those who spoke most loudly of love and godliness were, paradoxically, the most severe with other women — and with themselves. Judgment was cloaked as concern. Control dressed itself as care. Cruelty slipped through in the name of righteousness.

This is not a universal truth. It is not a condemnation.

It is an observation born of long intimacy.

And here is where I wish to be especially gentle — with them, and with myself.

I understand now that this, too, is a belief system at work. A structure that promises safety through order. Meaning through sacrifice. Belonging through sameness. When one has given her life to such a system, questioning it can feel like death itself.

So I no longer meet it with anger.

I meet it with distance.

And with compassion.

I am still unlearning the reflex that says holiness must hurt. I am still releasing the belief that goodness requires disappearance. These ideas linger like old songs — softer now, but not entirely gone. A pinch, as one might say. And that is all right.

Healing does not require haste.

What I know, with quiet certainty, is this:
love that requires you to leave yourself is not love.
devotion that demands your silence is not sacred.
and a God who asks for your erasure is not one I recognise anymore.

I now believe in a gentler order. One that allows rest. One that honours discernment. One that permits a woman to belong to herself first.

If you recognise yourself anywhere in these words — if you feel a tightening, or a softening, or a long exhale — know that you are not alone, and you are not wrong for noticing.

There is a way of living that does not require performance.
There is a faith that does not demand exhaustion.
There is a holiness in being alive.
I write this not to persuade, but to make room.

A Benediction for the Tenderhearted

May you be released from the belief that love must wound in order to be real.

May you lay down every burden that was never yours to carry.

May you learn, slowly and without reproach, that rest is not rebellion, and that gentleness is not a failure of faith.

May you trust the quiet knowing in your own body.

May you recognise the voice of goodness when it speaks without fear.

May your life become a sanctuary rather than a proving ground.

And if you are still unlearning — if a pinch of old fear yet lingers — may you treat yourself with the same mercy you so freely offer others.

Go softly.
You are allowed to belong to yourself.

With tenderness and a heart still learning mercy,

Lady Raquel 

Lovely Adventures At Staffordshire Cottage

My dear friends,

I spent the day writing away on fairytales that I am very excited to bring to your darling children very soon. I had the most enjoyment watching Olivier pounce about the cottage. He really enjoys being out in the garden with the chickens. He stays well close to the back door of the cottage. The chickens were especially quiet today. I wonder if the beautiful weather instinctually calmed them to nestle in the trees. They have their particular spots under the fern brush. They have created sand pits where they spend most hours of the day. The weekend ahead is predicted to be quite chilly, which I am looking forward to.  I couldn't be happier. My dear neighbour Joe and his wife have a roaring fire going and I can smell the umbers drifting over into our direction.

Cottage Intentions And More Victorian Author Readings

My dear friends,

Pour some tea, my dearies. Oliver is joining us this morning. Isn't he darling how he seems to camouflage himself? I had removed the unattractive table that was in the kitchen when I moved in, and since I am making due, I decided to use one of my sewing machines as a tiny table for now. I am thinking of painting every other tile black, to perhaps add a Victorian appeal. I posted a photo below. What do you think?

Gardening At Staffordshire Cottage

My dear friends,

Good morning! Might you pour some tea and let us sit and have a little visit.

 Did you have a most extraordinary weekend? Over the weekend I worked mostly in the garden while the chicken ladies strutted about. I let Oliver about in the garden for the day while I pulled weeds, cleaned the chicken coop, and raked up limbs and debris.

How To Create A Cottage Victorian Larder And Why We Psychologically Organize Our Environment

My dear friends, 

I'm having some breakfast English tea this morning. I also took a caffeine tablet to give me some energy. I am completely out of zip fizz, so I am making due.

Before I begin the larder discussion, I thought that we might first have a chat about organization through a psychological aspect. You know full well I love a great post about organizing but you also know I have a tendency to dive deep. Particulars are never really about the external forces. All things in this expansive universe are about internal connections. My blog is about the fun, whimsical and fairytale, but will always strive to use it as a way to educate as well.  I believe many wonder about the same things that I do. 

The Art Of Allowing, Downton Abbey And Delightful News

Hello dear friends,

Put the kettle on and let's have some tea. My choice this morning is English black tea.

I refer to you as my dear friends, do you know why? I do it for two reasons. The first is that those of you that swim to my blog, are true indeed like my dear friends in reality. I know we are spread out among this great expansive world, but we can each come together through writing. Isn't that the truest nature of friendship? I like that in the old-fashioned days, women would wait each day for a post from their friends. The butler would serve the letters on a silver tray, such as in Downton Abbey. I believe writing brings women together. Another reason for calling you dear friends is because I try to emulate Beatrix Potter.  I absolutely adore that she called persons dear to her "dear friends." I feel a kindred connection to her in many ways.



  I am going to give a break down of the movie when it hits theatres in 2019, so that shall be delightful indeed.

Courtesy of UK archives. Jemima Puddleduck outside of Hilltop.

Courtesy of UK archives. Hilltop in England where Beatrix Potter lived.

Do you have someone that you feel a kindred nature towards? I'd love to hear who yours is.

I wanted to tell you the great news! I heard from the City of Carmel yesterday and they are reviewing my proposal for the Flander's Mansion curatorship. I was so tickled, that I could not keep it from you. It will be months from now until I hear anything else about it. No matter the outcome, I am so happy regardless. I have learned that in the manifesting of anything in life, it's the joy along the journey that helps us in facilitating our dreams and desires. I believe too often we as humans have become so comfortable with believing that in life in order to be happy we must first have the "thing" and then we will be happy. It's the believing and then seeing, instead of the other way around.

Flanders Mansion in Spring.

Flanders Mansion in the evening.

I know my dream of living in Carmel will come true at the perfect appointed time. And whether that is living at Flanders Mansion or another little cottage in the city, I feel confident. I believe so strongly in the Law of Attraction. I think it's oftentimes unfortunate when people go for years and not allow a dream to come true in their life, that they mistakenly believe that they aren't worthy of their desire. This isn't true at all. The only reason someone doesn't manifest their desire is that after they first launch an idea/desire they go to work contradicting it. I know before I began practising the Law of Attraction, I was notorious at doing this. It's because I didn't understand how universal laws worked. I would become tied up in believing that I wasn't worthy of the things I desired. I think that is common among many people especially if having grown up in a religious home, such as I. It can become quite confusing after being raised with contradicting beliefs. I grew up Pentecostal Church of God until I was 17 and then I converted to a Mormon. When I left my marriage in 2015 i stopped practising religionall together.

To be a tad confident about feeling special in life is a very good thing indeed. I do hope you feel as prized a person too, meaning you too shall have all of your dreams come true if you so believe. To believe before we have tangibly seen the proof is a true testament to faith as Christian/religious folks call it.

I spent yesterday rearranging furniture and packing up some things that I feel I've outgrown, such as some pictures on the walls, some old craft items and modern clothing. Remember I spoke to you about clearing out and disembowelling things such as clothes that you don't like wearing or haven't worn in sometime? I was holding onto some shoes that I thought I may wear again, but I averaged the time out and I haven't worn them for over four years. I am therefore donating them to charity. Do you begin feeling that way towards the end of each year as well? I think I am constantly releasing things. I learned to easily release things as I would move so much in my past that to keep every little item would have been quite burdensome.

I found these Victorian granny boots at an antique shop. Even though they were a bit tough getting on, they fit perfectly which is quite rare.

I began working on our little guest bathroom over the weekend. Jeffrey is disembowelling the sink this weekend. I'm going to then add a pedestal sink my dear friend gave to me when I moved in with my parents. The only thing I'll need to purchase is a faucet. I found one on Amazon for $60.00. It has a Victorian flair to it.

My mother and I went looking at old Victorian homes in my neighbourhood. I asked her to snap a photo. 

I decorated my treasure room to coordinate with The Tale of MerryMaid Scarlette Rose. Did you notice the rose colours and the cork garland?

I wanted to leave you to begin your day off on the correct foot with another quote. I do love quotes. They have always inspired me along my life's journey and I hope they too inspire you, sweet friends.

I shall write again soon.

Most affably yours til my next swim, Raquelxxx

A Victorian Message Of Good Cheer

Apple Cinnamon tea and stollen

My dear friends,

I've missed you, and it seems those words are oft-spoken from me. I have a wee bit of news to share with you.

But firstly, tea and a Victorian quote to set us right.

" How oft does an emblem-bud silently tell what language could never speak half so well!" ~Louisa Anne Twamley, Romance of Nature {1836}

Last week I sent out my very first email newsletter "The Current." I think I should continually flush out a few ways of making it become a delightful bit of tail mail or messages in a bottle from Raquel. Which Title do you prefer? I'd very much appreciate it being somewhat like snail mail. I miss not having handwritten letters from the post. I love having pen pals, do you not?

The Spiritually Artistic Nature of Cottage Living

My Dear Friends, Mermaid Junkies and Shoal family,

Pour some tea and let us have a visit, shall we? I'm having some pumpkin spice tea and a few cookies.
I post many darling little homes on my social media feeds, some of which are mine, have been mine and several that I love the look of. I am especially fond of, "The Outland's" in Carmel, California where I expect to move to very soon.

I wanted to share with you something I've learned about our homes, and the spiritual roles they play in our lives.

My father is a carpenter and I was always fascinated by what a home represents. It's forever been a deeply methodical concept to me. They can represent the soul of a person if we know where to place their importance and create the correct beliefs about them.

The real deep desire to understand myself and the role homes play in my life came from moving around so much. My ex-was in entertainment and we were constantly moving about for his career, so we have lived in many homes. We've lived in mansions, 19th-century Victorian homes, split levels, ranch style, cottages, Arts and Crafts, Bungalows, condominiums, and apartments.

I would get moved into a place and I was quick to make it my own by placing my stamp of approval on it for the time being. I learned throughout my life that in order for my children to be mentally stable and not have issues about moving so much, I had to create a happy place for them. I did that with each place we lived. I would immediately set to work in getting the home to feel as comfortable as I possibly could. I felt that if my children's lives were always changing externally, at least if I made their home a happy place, it would calm their hearts no matter where they lived. I believe and always will, that children take on the energy of the parent with regards to everything. So if we create an experience as wonderful the children will then too feel the same way. Every single thing in life is about energy. I am so happy that I now understand this concept of universal law so clearly.

Too often I have seen where parents (unintentionally, I am sure) will create stress and a feeling of energetic instability when it pertains to change and moving. I knew that to make each move a delight, the children would also learn to adapt to change. I did what I felt was best for my children, and now as adults, it'll be thrilling to watch what they decide to do. My daughter wants to travel the world. I think she's been bitten by the travel bug.



We create attachments to events that occur in our lives. I believe we have a choice in how we place those attachments and events. That's certainly not to say that a home can't have negative energy. For instance, maybe your childhood home was a place you were constantly molested, or your brother was killed in a car accident and that was the home you were living in at the time of the event. My childhood home is where my father was an alcoholic, but what I am saying is that we all have unpleasant events that have happened to us, and it's up to us to redefine those moments. We must create new beliefs about how we would want to see them now that we have control over our lives. I am saying to put your head in the sand and pretend that everything is delightful in life. Now let me explain this psychologically, and through the perspective of the Law of Attraction.

We are all powerful creators. We have the capability to change and it is not an arduous affair. We only make it arduous because of the things we say. Remember, I've always said the Universe ONLY hears what we MEAN, not what we say. To create a life we love entails changing the way we think. It's all in our mindset.



I used to be the kind of person, that every time I started to feel unhappy and uncomfortable in a situation, or my life wasn't going the way I wanted, I decided that moving to a new home was the answer. The thing I soon learned was that I was always taking myself with me. It didn't matter if I lived in my dream house because after the newness wore off, I was still miserable. I was still the same person, and no home or the things in the home to decorate was going to make a difference if I didn't change my beliefs.

I see people now, and they are constantly changing homes, desiring a home that's way out of their price range, financial means, or constantly changing up the insides because they aren't satisfied. I believe much of this dissatisfied nature has to do with self, and not the home as many may believe. Most people project their inner unhappiness and circumstances onto external things. Most people believe that how a home looks and how it's decorated on the inside stands for a representation of the people who live in it, but that's not always the case. It's subjective. I think the take away on this post is that we should not put too much of our personal identity into a home. They are two separate entities.


I know that my home is lovely, but I am lovely as well, so my home is an extension of me.

We should want lovely homes and lovely adornments. In fact, when we are happy internally, our homes will reflect that.
I hope to inspire you to reach for your dream home. We are here to manifest and create lives that we are magically in love with. We must believe we can have them, and that we are worthy of all we desire. Let us be satisfied with where we are in the moment but eager for more. It's as easy to create a castle as it is a button. The only thing that ever stops us from manifesting all of our hearts desires is our lack of belief in self. Too often we believe we don't deserve all that our heart desires.

One thing that you can do today is to begin finding those thoughts that make you feel a sense of happy. If you find that going to the beach and walking the shoreline brings you s feeling of joy, do more of that. Do you live close to the ocean or river, love it so so much but rarely visit? Go visit. Do a little more of what makes your heart soar. It will gain momentum, and soon you'll realize you are happier with each passing day.

What's your dream home?  I'd love to hear or even post a photo, so we can all see it. That makes it so much more fun!

Most affably yours til my next swim, Raquelxxx

The Art Of Victorian Musings And Hints From Staffordshire Cottage

Might you pour some tea and let us have a little visit. I've missed you, and I have such particulars to tell you and a bit of some musing that only you might well appreciate. 

My choice of tea this morning is lavender and rose with a smidge of honey, I am pairing it with a few walker shortbread biscuits/cookies. A little further down in this entry I will share my  Victorian recipe of Walker shortbread. Last evening I finally took a moment to sit a spell and read my newest issue of Victoria magazine. I was especially pleased to see a sweet little entry about Beatrix Potter's celebratory birthday in England. What a delight! I do love Beatrix Potter as you may well know. 

As you can see here, Oliver is as gleeful about fall as I am. I do love a rabbit in photographs along with some flowers. 

As I am an artist and with my manuscript and illustrations off to the formatting company, I thought to send you a tad of Mermaid. I painted this so long ago, and it still reminds me of my beloved gardener. I imagine he looked like this as an infant boy. 

 I have an old wooden fence that separates us from the neighbours, and there is one piece of fencing that has long rotted away. I can't bear to replace it as I am rewarded with my neighbours bleeding hearts ever so daring to connect. I don't mind it one bit. Isn't the bleeding heart thus very England and holiday provoking in spirit?

 And since I have no children these days underfoot, these little ladies are my constant companions. Have I ever told you of their names? The red one with white-tipped tail feathers is named Harriet. We were told she was an Orpington, but I think she is something else. Any guesses out there, ladies? The Plymouth Rock {black &white} is named May. Her sister was called Flower, and she was killed by a racoon as a chick. The Black Australorp is Pollie, and the Rhode Island Red {to the far right} is named Henny Penny.

 They surely keep the bugs down and weeds from my rose garden. They love the rose garden.

 I was counting out my collection of oyster shells that I've been hoarding as I am planning to use them to make an excellent base for a laundry line. I need to make one that's portable, small in scale as our gardens are small and one that is appealing to admire. I should think that all things in our dwellings should be delightful and admirable to gaze upon, no?

 I do believe ladies that I have showed you once before in another post, the little bathroom I redid for $12.00. I had all of the other supplies in the garage. I will go into more depths in the newest entry, but I thought I'd share a little inspiration with you proving that we are only limited to our imagination when desiring to create beauty in our small abodes. I am beginning our 2nd bath this weekend with another many little redos. It requires my Beloved Gardener to disembowel the sink. He was very enthusiastic about how I was able to transform our small bath with such little money. I hope to do a second bath, such as justice. I will dedicate an entire post to that project in the impending future.

 I am currently switching out a few sets of our curtains in the cottage from linen to all lace. I am a lace person, and it makes the cottage feel a bit more Victorian in nature. That's the exciting thing about homes. If you desire to have your home a particular style, but it's not perhaps, built in the period you'd like, there is always a way to aesthetically change things to trick the eye.

 I have begun taking out my fall decor. Last year these leaves were sent to me from a dear friend in New England. To prep for the autumn brings me right to the edge of enjoyment.

 A beautiful Victorian image of a print I have had for many years. It speaks to me as a mermaid;  elegant and enchanting.

 A little painting I did for Spencer Pratt and Heidi Montag of their son Gunner with some hummingbirds.

 A little Halloween decorating from last year. I am in hopes of tickling you with inspiration to begin thinking about such a beautiful, dreamy holiday approaching. I am frequently tempted to leave my cobwebs up all year round. {heh} Do you think anyone would pay notice?

 Are you a Halloween person? What's your favourite holiday? Do you celebrate Lammas? I began celebrating Lammas a few years ago. I have always incorporated traditions into my life, and I very much tried to create that for my children as they were young. I am still reminded by my children of how much they appreciated all the traditions I incorporated for them. They certainly make me so very happy, and it's such fun in sharing with the children all about their family heritage and genealogy. Do you have traditions? 

My little roses and herbs are getting along quite well. I have started adding potash to the roses and look how many blooms have shot out in the last week.

Another small image of the old home when I lived in Orlando. This was my formal Victorian dining room, so I didn't much care that the cobwebs were ridiculously placed. I so very much wish I had the old photos of this decorating, it was quite something, in my opinion.

I placed this image up as its another reminder of an idea for the cabinets here at Staffordshire Cottage. This is my old home, but I still quite enjoy this look of distress on the cabinets. It was a very time-consuming project but prevailed in the end because it saved me thousands of dollars when we went to purchase this home. There was an exact house right next door at the time we were looking to buy. The only difference was that the house next door was 60,000 dollars more than ours, and it was because they had replaced the kitchen cabinets before placing it on the market. I said oh, no! I'll just paint ours, and I would venture to guess ours will turn out a bit more charming. I must say I was right. The first thing that drew the lady to want our home was the kitchen. She really liked the cabinets. Our house sold in 2 days. This was over 9 years ago. Oh my! Where oh, where has the time gone?

I am still toying with whether I want to alter this look a bit. I had even thought to do the distress but actually paint the cabinets an olive green instead of beige. Below is the handle that I have picked out for the pulls.

Here's another designer tip. If you can not afford to overhaul a particular room per se, but you want to update it enough to where when you are having your morning tea and not feel dreadful in your own dwelling, remember that you can change little things and it will make a world of difference.

For instance, I am not at the leisure to altogether remove our kitchen cabinets as of yet, but I can add some techniques along with some paint, and some Victorian pieces and It will suffice for quite some time. The pulls are on the pricey end of the spectrum, but I can always remove the pulls and place them on new cabinets when the time arises.

 Another image of new lace curtains. I have been finding a mix of lace curtains at yard sales. I don't have all the windows provided for as of yet, because as we know, some things take a little time. I do know that Ikea has some relatively inexpensive lace curtains and I think I may drive over this weekend and pick some up for the sliding glass doors. I want to replace the doors for some french doors with glass knobs, but lace curtains will deter the eye for the time being.

This is what my old doorknobs looked like except the glass portion was the colour of the knob below. I am a mug for the colour green, as many of you already know.

 I worked at Anthropologie for a time, and I was able to get a discount.

I have many of these for cabinet pulls which I put on all sorts of things. The bathroom vanity cabinet, the pantry closet, sleeping room closet doors, wall hooks, or I might even drill a hole right into the wall to hang picture frames with chains. It's so very Victorian!

 I am sure you are fully aware of who this is! Meet Queen Mary of Scots!

 I spoke to you previously telling you how much I absolutely love the Walkers Pure Butter shortbread. Well if you know anything about the Walker shortbread or have purchased them you may be fully aware that for a tiny box of them, it's about 5 dollars. That's not too much truthfully, but I thought I might try my hand at baking my very own. It was 3 ingredients, how tough could it possibly be, correct?

• 1 1/2 Cups Plain flour
• 1/3 Cup White sugar
• 1 1/2 Cups Butter

Walker Pure Butter Shortbread 

1. Preheat Oven To 180 Degrees C.
2. Blend All Ingredients Well. Dough Will Be Stiff.
3. Press Into A 23cmx23cm Buttered Cake Pan. Prick Top With A Fork. Mark Into 24 Squares.
4. Bake In Preheated Oven For 15-20 Minutes Until Pale Golden Brown On The Edges. While Still, Warm Cut Into Squares~Prep time 15 mins › Cooking time 15 mins › Ready in 30 minutes let me just tell you, you get a mighty amount when you make them yourself. Here's the Victorian recipe I used, doubling my batch. I freeze one batch for later and eat the other now. It's also a lovely gift to give if you've been invited to tea or you need a house gift in a pinch. Add some wrapping, ribbons and a basket; and you will be all set and ready.

I am quite the mover here at the cottage, and I am not one to continually wear my Victorian boots daily. So I wear these little inexpensive {$7.00} ballerina shoes from Walmart. They are super comfortable, and they look adorable with all of my dresses. As you can see from the picture, they start to look scuffed and not so cute, but they don't have holes in them, so guess what I do? I actually decorate them with fabrics, trims, bits, bobs, tea-dyed lace and ribbons. That way, I can get more use out of them, and even when I am doing tedious strenuous projects, I still look approachable. I tried to match the designs from my old shoes below. Notice the darling brass mermaid?

I held a little tea party for myself on July 28; Beatrix Potters birthday!

Here is another view of our sleeping room. I found these pictures of Blue Boy and Pinkie at the thrift store for 3 dollars, and I had to have them. As a young girl, I always had these figures in my sleeping room. They are such delightful memories for me. I am removing the linen curtains and replacing with lace ones as well.

My dresser. I collect little glass vanity boxes, gloves and perfume,e bottles. My collection is in the beginning stages just as my new transformational life as a gardener's wife.

The jewellery music box is my Beloved Gardeners deceased mothers. It's one of the only belongings that he has and holds so dear that was hers.

Miss Potter {From My DVD}

An image of an outfit I am beginning. I bought the pattern below from Etsy, and I am starting on it this weekend. I am going to choose a soft calico, perhaps hemp ticking in taupe. The blouse is one I purchased from Historical Emporium. I love their Victorian shirts because they are comfortable and made of all cotton. I am a mug for a Victorian cotton blouse. I chose an ecru in colour as I am a gingered haired lady and the soft ecru looks much more spritely on my skin tone than a stark white. I will pair it with my favourite of all broach types; the cameo.

Courtesy of Historical Emporium

I hope this day finds you extraordinarily well. I also am hoping that you will sign up for my newsletter "The Current."

I do not send out that many and I pinky-swear that I won't be bothersome with endless mailings. I want each of you the opportunity to be entered into my contest to win a Merrymaid Scarlette Rose doll along with a care package and a copy of my storybook "The Tale of Merrymaid Scarlette Rose". It will be a charming little gift for a baby shower or for the upcoming Christmas holiday. My release date is the second week in September. I shall keep you posted. Follow along on my social media if you would like. The links are to the right of this blog on the side panel. 

Most affably yours til my next swim, Raquelxxx