#vintage wooden bank

[eyesearchedandfound]

Those charming souvenirs from 1960s.

A bank like this one will only bring back memories to those of us over a certain age --and for everyone else, we feel for you that you no longer find these in gift shops by the lake or the beach or the mountain trail. Make no mistake, there are souvenirs but now they usually come from China.

The old ones were usually made by hand by someone somewhat local and they always had a cute sticker applied to remind you of your visit to the Smokey Mountains, Lake George or Stone Harbor NJ.

Leaving that gift shop with a memento in hand was truly a vacation experience. And keeping them on the shelf at home to remember the fun family time was crucial for all those inevitably lonely, sad moments that come with growing up.

This one is available on my Etsy shop isearchedandfound.com.

[yourbelgianthings]

the most waterparks per capita in the country! (click for quality, id under cut)

id: a vintage postcard illustration style design, the background is an image of the green bank telescope in a field with a cloudy blue sky it has an oil paint texture, the text says Slide into and the Slippery City! in script font with a white drop shadow above and below the main larger text that says KEPLER, the back outline is muted robin's egg blue and the bottom outline is orange with gray halftone, each letter is filled with a different image: the K is a snow covered mountain with trees, E is a pine tree in the mountains, P is a waterpark slide and pool, L is a road curving through the autumn woods, E is a large wooden lodge in the forest, and R is a road curving into the horizon of trees, the entire image has a grain overlay end id.

[lifeofpriya]

City of Love, Pool of Dreams - Thomas Ceccon

author's note: no gif this time unfortunately 😔 this fic may or may not have been come to fruition thanks to @2manytabsopen and i's daily chats and yeah...i hope y'all enjoy this Olympic-edition fic!

summary: A chance encounter during the Olympics ignites a passionate romance between you and a certain Italian swimmer...

You found yourself in Paris, the City of Lights, during the Olympics. The cobblestone streets were alive with the electricity of competition and camaraderie. Athletes from around the globe mingled with tourists and locals, creating a pattern of languages, colors, and emotions. As you strolled along the banks of the Seine, the gentle murmur of the river mixed with the distant cheers from the nearby stadiums. You paused at a small café, drawn in by the aroma of freshly baked croissants and the sound of laughter spilling out onto the sidewalk.

As you opened the door to enter the café, you accidentally bumped into someone exiting. You turned to apologize, and your eyes met green eyes that were so familiar to you, but you couldn't place where from.

"Pardonnez-moi," you murmur, the words slipping out at the same moment you realize who you've collided with. Thomas Ceccon, the Italian swimmer you've watched race to victory on TV recently, stands before you, his wavy hair slightly disheveled from the encounter. He smiles and extends a hand to help you regain your balance.

"It's quite alright," he says, his Italian accent lilting the words like a melody. "I should have been more careful." His eyes dance with good humor, and you can't help but feel the warmth of his presence.

You take his hand, noticing the firm grip of a trained athlete. As you both laugh off the minor collision, the café's door swings shut behind you, leaving the bustle of the street outside a muffled backdrop to your conversation. The interior is cozy, with wooden tables and chairs that have seen a thousand conversations, and walls adorned with vintage posters of French cinema. The smell of strong coffee and freshly baked bread fills the air, making your stomach rumble.

"Would you like to join me?" Thomas asks, gesturing to an empty table by the window. You nod eagerly, feeling a mix of excitement and nerves. This is not a meeting you could have ever anticipated.

The sun breaks through the clouds as you sit down, casting a warm glow over the café. The bell above the door jingles again, announcing the arrival of more customers, but you're too caught up in the moment to pay them much mind.

"So, what brings you to Paris?" Thomas asks, his eyes genuinely curious. His casual demeanor puts you at ease, and you find yourself sharing more than you usually would with a stranger.

"I'm just here to watch the games and take in the sights," you reply, smoothing out your clothes, still slightly disheveled from the collision. I've always wanted to visit during the Olympics. It's like the whole world is here."

Thomas nods, his eyes lighting up with enthusiasm. "It's incredible, isn't it? Everyone coming together for the love of sport. Have you seen any of the competitions yet?"

You admit that you haven't had the chance to attend any events in person, but you've been keeping up with the news. "I haven't had a chance to get tickets, but I've been watching the highlights every night," you say, a hint of disappointment in your voice.

Thomas's eyes light up. "Well, I might be able to help with that," he says, a playful smile playing on his lips. "I have an extra pass for the 4 x 100m medley relay finals tomorrow. Would you like to come?"

Your heart skips a beat. "Are you serious?"

Thomas nods, his smile growing wider. "Absolutely. It's going to be an incredible race. And it's my last event before I head home."

You can't believe your luck. Sitting in a quaint Parisian café with an Olympic gold medalist, sipping on steaming cups of café au lait, and now being offered a ticket to the most anticipated swimming event of the games. "I'd love to," you reply, trying to keep your cool. "But aren't you supposed to save those for family or something?"

Thomas waves off your concern. "My family's already got theirs. Besides, I'd rather share the experience with someone who truly appreciates it. Plus, I think it'll be more fun to have a friendly face in the crowd." His words warm you from the inside out, and you find yourself accepting his generous offer without hesitation.

The rest of the afternoon is a whirlwind of conversation as you share stories about your hometowns and your own passions. Thomas tells you about his rigorous training to get to the Olympics, and you listen, captivated by his dedication and love for the sport. In return, you speak about your own life, feeling surprisingly open with this charming stranger.

As the sun dips lower in the sky, casting a warm glow over the café, you both realize the time has flown by. "I should get going," Thomas says, glancing at his watch. "I have to be at the village soon. But I'll see you tomorrow, right?"

You nod, feeling a mix of excitement and anticipation. "I wouldn't miss it for the world."

Thomas leaves a generous tip on the table and stands up, his tall frame towering over the tiny chairs. He slings his backpack over his shoulder and extends his hand once more. "It's been a pleasure," he says, shaking yours firmly. "I'll meet you at the stadium's east entrance at 7 pm tomorrow then. Don't be late!"

You nod, your heart racing. As you watch him weave through the café and out the door, you can't shake the feeling that this is all a dream. The café seems to deflate slightly without his energy, and you sit there for a moment, lost in thought. The rest of the afternoon is a blur of preparation - finding the perfect outfit, re-reading the event schedule, and trying to calm your nerves.

\\\

Soon enough, tomorrow arrives. You wake up early, the excitement of the night before still buzzing in your veins. You take your time getting ready, choosing an outfit that is both comfortable for the long day ahead and presentable enough to be seen with someone as notable as Thomas. The sun is high in the sky by the time you leave your hotel room, casting a golden hue over the city.

You arrive at the stadium with time to spare, the anticipation building with every step you take towards the east entrance. The grandeur of the Olympic venue is a stark contrast to the quaint café where you'd met Thomas. The air is thick with the scent of popcorn and anticipation as fans from every nation mill about, adorned in their country's colors.

As you wait, you can't help but feel a twinge of doubt. What if he forgot about you? What if he'd just been being polite? But then, like a beacon of hope, you see him approaching, his green eyes scanning the crowd until they land on you. He waves, a grin spreading across his face, and you wave back, feeling a flutter in your stomach.

"You made it!" Thomas says as he reaches you. He's wearing the Italian team's colors, and the Olympic rings on his jacket glint in the sun. Are you ready for an unforgettable night?"

You nod, unable to find the words to express your excitement. He takes the ticket from you and leads the way through the throngs of people to the designated section. The stadium is a cacophony of noise, with fans from all corners of the globe cheering and waving flags. The atmosphere is electric, and you can feel it zipping through the air.

As you take your seat, you're struck by the sheer size of the pool. It stretches out before you, a blue expanse that seems to go on forever. The starting blocks gleam under the lights, and you can't help but imagine the tension that must build up there, the anticipation of the race to come.

Thomas notices your awe and chuckles. "It's pretty amazing, isn't it?" he says, his voice full of pride. "This is where dreams are made or broken."

"Go get them, Thomas!" You couldn't help but smile at the Italian as you nudged him playfully. His eyes lit up with a competitive fire, and you knew he was eager to dive into the water. The air was thick with anticipation, and the hum of the crowd was a constant reminder of the magnitude of the event unfolding before you.

As the evening progressed, the tension grew palpable. Athletes from various countries paraded into the arena, each step they took resonating with the weight of their nation's hopes and dreams. The time for the 4 x 100m medley relay grew nearer, and you found yourself leaning forward in your seat, the excitement building with every minute that ticked by.

Thomas's team was announced, and the crowd erupted into a symphony of cheers. You spotted him in the pool area, his eyes focused and intense. He caught your gaze and flashed a quick smile before turning his attention back to the water. Your heart raced in sync with the rhythm of the crowd as the starting gun went off.

The swimmers dove in, and the race began. Each stroke, each kick, every split second counted. The Italian team took an early lead, and you found yourself standing, hands clutched together, willing Thomas and his teammates to victory. The sound of water splashing and the buzz of the audience created a crescendo of energy that seemed to pulse through the entire stadium.

You watched Thomas's powerful strokes, his arms slicing through the water like a knife. The Italian fans around you were a sea of green, white, and red, their shouts of "Forza, Thomas!" echoing in your ears. As he approached the final stretch, you could see the determination etched on his face, the muscles in his arms bulging with the effort.

The race was tight, with the Americans and the Australian teams hot on Italy's heels. The tension in the air was so thick you could almost taste it. You held your breath as Thomas made the final turn, his legs kicking furiously. The crowd's cheers grew louder, each one a shout of encouragement that propelled him forward.

As Thomas reached for the wall to tag his teammate for the final leg, you felt your heart pound in your chest. The Italian team was still in the lead, but the margin was slim. You watched the final swimmer, the freestyler, dive in and slice through the water like a torpedo. The stadium was a blur of motion and sound around you, but your eyes remained fixed on the pool.

The race was a nail-biter, with the lead changing hands multiple times. The American swimmer was closing the gap, their strokes powerful and precise. You could see the determination in the Italian's eyes as he kicked harder, reaching deeper for the speed that had brought him to this moment. The crowd around you was a mix of hope and fear, each nation's supporters willing their team to victory.

As the race's final moments ticked by, the Italian freestyler pulled ahead, his stroke a thing of beauty and strength. The crowd's roar grew deafening, a wave of sound that seemed to lift the swimmers out of the water. You clenched your fists, feeling your heart race in time with the music's pounding bass and the cheers' rhythm.

Then, it was over. The Italian swimmer's hand slapped the wall, and the buzzer rang out. The crowd erupted into a frenzy of cheers and applause. You looked at Thomas, who was now standing at the edge of the pool, chest heaving and a smile of pure triumph spreading across his face. The Italian flag was draped over his shoulders, and his eyes searched the stands for yours.

When he found you, his smile grew even wider. He pointed at you, the universal gesture for 'we did it.' You couldn't help but laugh and cheer along with the rest of the crowd. The adrenaline rushing through your veins mirrored the race's intensity, and you felt a part of the victory, despite being a spectator.

After the race, Thomas made his way to the stands, navigating through the ecstatic Italians. His teammates hugged him tightly, their faces a mix of exhaustion and elation. When he reached you, his eyes sparkled with excitement. "Thank you for being here," he said, his voice hoarse from the chlorine and the screams.

You nodded, still trying to catch your breath from the excitement. "That was… amazing," you managed to say.

Thomas leaned in closer, his voice barely audible over the cacophony of the stadium. "It means so much to have you here," he said, his eyes searching yours. "I couldn't have done it without you."

You felt a blush creep up your cheeks, unsure of how to respond. Before you could say anything, a swarm of reporters and photographers descended upon the victorious team. Thomas was swept away in a whirlwind of flashing lights and questions, but not before winking at you and promising to catch up later.

\\\

As the excitement of the relay finals waned, you made your way out of the stadium, feeling both exhilarated and slightly lost. The night air was cool against your flushed skin, and the city's lights twinkled like stars in the sky above. You wandered the streets of Paris, the games' energy pulsating through the city's cobblestone veins.

You soon found yourself on the pathway that led to the Eiffel Tower, the iconic structure casting its shadow over the bustling city. The air was still electric with the excitement of the games, but here, amidst the tourists and lovers, there was a sense of peace. You decided to sit on a bench, giving yourself a moment to process the whirlwind of emotions you felt from watching Thomas' victory.

As you sat there, the Tower's lights began to twinkle, a magical sight that seemed to mirror the spark in Thomas' eyes when he'd found you in the crowd. The sound of a distant accordion played a soft tune, and you felt a gentle nudge of nostalgia for a place you'd only just arrived in.

Your thoughts were interrupted by a familiar voice. "Mind if I join you?" Thomas appeared, out of breath but beaming. He'd managed to escape the media storm and track you down. His wet hair clung to his forehead, and his eyes searched yours, looking for the same awe that you'd seen in the pool.

You nodded, your heart racing. "How did you find me?"

Thomas shrugged off his backpack and sat beside you, his eyes still gleaming with excitement. "I had a feeling you'd be here," he said with a grin. "This is where everyone comes to reflect on the magic of Paris."

You couldn't help but smile back, feeling a sense of camaraderie that went beyond the typical fan-athlete dynamic. The Tower's lights continued to dance above you, casting a soft glow on the two of you as you sat in companionable silence, watching the world go by.

Thomas leaned back on the bench, his eyes still glued to the Eiffel Tower. "You know, I've competed in so many places, but there's something about Paris that's just… special."

You nodded in agreement. "It's like the whole city is alive with excitement."

Thomas turned to you, his eyes shining with a newfound warmth. "And meeting you has made it even more unforgettable."

You felt your cheeks flush as you tried to find the right words to respond. "Thank you," you finally managed, your voice barely above a whisper.

Thomas' smile grew softer, and he leaned in slightly. "Do you believe in destiny?"

You tilted your head, considering his question. "I like to think so," you replied, your voice barely audible over the Tower's twinkling lights.

Thomas nodded, his gaze lingering on the Tower before returning to you. "Then I guess it was destined for us to meet here," he said, his voice a gentle caress against the night air.

Your heart skipped a beat, and you felt your palms begin to sweat. You had never felt so alive, so seen. "I suppose it was," you murmured, not quite meeting his gaze.

The Tower's lights continued their rhythmic dance, casting a soft, romantic glow on the two of you. The accordion's tune grew faint, as if giving way to the conversation that was about to unfold. You looked up at Thomas, his features softened by the dim light, and realized that this moment was more than just a chance encounter. There was something genuine in his eyes, something that made you want to believe in fairy tales and happy endings.

"So, what happens now?" you asked, breaking the silence. Thomas took a deep breath, his eyes never leaving yours. "Now, we enjoy the magic of Paris," he said, his voice filled with promise. "We've got the whole night ahead of us."

[credince--writes]

Can we talk more about Captain Daddy? All thanks to @glossysoap and @sprout-fics pls and thx for unearthing these brainworms I can't get out of my head.

And i have very distinct vision for the double teaming taking place here. (and no, i know it isn't realistic, but that's half the fun haha)

Yk what under the cut

I can see them both on some form of leave lingering in Mactavish's shop, shooting the shit while looking at some kind of project they've been 'working on' for the last 5+ years (It's A) related to a vintage vehicle, or B) related to some kind of drift boat to go fishing out of and they much prefer simply sitting by the bank to fish). A long standing agreement between the two neither seemed to break off with the introduction of you into their lives.

Some minor transgression or outright game to get the blood flowing (I fully believe every Easter someones hunting the Easter Bunny- running around stark naked in a bunny costume- accept it isn't a costume. It's just ears, paws, and a bunny-tailed buttplug. And let's just say neither of the men could get the paws to fit on their hands.) A snarky little remark of this prefabricated game, the lines you know you can toe and that you know how to push Mactavish's buttons like nobodies business.

It's one of those snarky comments about maybe if you weren't too busy sucking eachother's dicks out there you'd have heard me come home, love. That has you in the situation you're in now.

Bent over one of the barstools tucked into your kitchen's little island, groceries forgotten and set down in their plastic bags on the countertop. Tummy down against the vinyl upholstery, you can help but feel the wood dig into your hips from the chair beneath you. the length of your legs make it so your feet can barely touch the ground. Even so Mactavish has your legs kicked out so far and a hand gripped in your hair that the only support you can muster for your upper body is sliding your arms down the wooden legs closest to you and just holding on.

Anything on your lower half already pulled down and discarded- all Mactavish has to do to confine you to this space is simply keep his left arm extended with the grip in your hair. Hips trapped between the seat and the tension forcing your back to curl down and around. The four legs of the chair holding you steady, regardless of the occasional creak if he leans his bodyweight into it. (this isn't the first time) The height of the chair also makes it the perfect angle to prop your ass up at a casual swatting level. Bare heat on display, he'll smack it until he's decided you've learnt your lesson (you haven't) or the wetness accumulates enough to glisten, smearing around your thighs with his "punishment".

It's not until the static of your headspace is interrupted by a second, large hand smoothing up your spine. Recognizing that docile headspace you've been reduced down too- boiled down fruit into a syrup, ready to spread across his dessert. Does he lazily pull his cock out, not bothering to drop his pants- bringing that warm hand down to your throat- up under your chin where his thumb and middle finger wrap fully around your face coaxing your mouth open, and feed it into the back of your throat.

He dosen't always move right off the bat- sometimes he'll wait until Mactavish slides a finger or three into that sopping mess and use the momentum of the fingers inside of you to fuck you against the chair and into the hulking mass of flesh before you- and down your throat.

Mactavish will chastise you, the bad cop of the bunch questioning why they should even entertain making you feel good when you're only a brat. Not until your whining and begging- with the Price seated fully down your throat, he likes the feeling of you struggling to speak- does Price start to combat it. Smoothing hands over your cheeks and hushing the whines coming out of your stuffed mouth. There's other things you need to be focusing on other than chatting, love.

The mouth-stuffed garble of 'Daddy' when Mactavish seats himself fully from behind, grabbing hold of the seat of the poor little bar stool before putting it's wooden frame to work.

Price simply leans against the countertop and inspects the stonefruit you'd selected when shopping- he forgot peaches were in season, he'd have to ask you how to make him that delicious cobbler you'd made last time he was over for dinner- when you were able to speak again. It wouldn't be any time soon.

[gvfmarge]

Lighthouse of my Soul - Chapter One

Hi everyone!

This is my very first multipart fic! I hope you enjoy it! I’m feeling a little underwhelmed with how this first chapter turned out. I want it to be more, so hopefully you’ll stick around! I’m hoping to grow my writing a with this fic and maybe get some feelings out while doing it. This is going to be a bit of a slow burner, so be gentle with me, I’m a baby!

(Ghost)Jake x Reader

Warnings: none? Some cussing, some slightly spooky stuff but not too much for now.

I’ve also never had a tag list, so if you’re interested in the next parts just let me know and I’ll tag you! Xoxoxoxo

Were you running away? From what? It didn’t matter. You felt like you had finally reached your destination. You felt the ocean was your new beginning. The Outer Banks had always been your comfort place, growing up vacationing here was always your favorite. It felt like home every time you visited, so it was a no brainer when you had been offered a temporary position at the local newspaper in Hatteras. You felt that you were going to finally make something of yourself. All the hard work you had put into studying and writing was going to pay off. 

You had luckily stumbled upon a tiny cottage to rent. The owner explaining it had been built in 1874 and had weathered many storms and tribulations. It had originally been part of the life-saving station before they had built a newer building and eventually became the Coast Guard. The house had endured damage along the years from storms and each time had been repaired. When you stepped foot inside, you could feel the history. The floorboards squeaked with each step inside, taking a deep breath it smelled like sea salt and fresh air. Everything in the house was basically original. The dark hardwood floors showed signs of wear, with little scratches here and there and you could see the discoloration throughout the house where many footsteps had worn down the stain. The walls were fully covered in shiplap and had been sanded down and painted a beautiful light blue color. The kitchen was small, with only 3 overhead cabinets, a small older fridge and a stove. The living room was connected to the kitchen, you could barely see where the owners had taken out the wall to try and have somewhat of an open concept. Slowly inspecting each room, you came to realize just how small it was compared to the pictures you had viewed online. You realized you might not even have enough space for a couch and a table, but you would figure logistics out later. Walking up the steep rickety stairs you came upon a short hallway, at the end was a window stretching from the ceiling to the floor with an amazing view of the beach and ocean outside of the house, from the second floor it seemed you could see forever over the horizon. There are two bedrooms split by the hallway. Looking inside the room to your left, you noticed a small desk sitting underneath a window looking out to the ocean. On it, sat an empty white vase and a typewriter. It piqued your curiosity, the home came unfurnished and you were not made aware of anything left behind for you to use. 

Walking over to it, you sat down in the tiny wooden chair and ran your fingers over the vintage keys. As soon as your fingertips met with the cold metal, you felt electricity flow through your hand, up your arm and down your spine. Goosebumps rose over your skin and you quickly pulled your hand away. The shock and stress of moving must be getting to you, you thought. You gazed out the window taking in the ocean waves. You were finally alone, it felt peaceful but somehow, you felt a longing in the house. There was something that you couldn’t quite place your finger on. 

You felt a presence with you and quickly turned around to the entrance of the room. You could have sworn you felt eyes on you but there wasn’t a soul there. You slowly turned your body around again to face the window and your mind wondered back to the memories you had that led you here. Suddenly, a faint smell of tobacco burning filled the room. The sweet but heavy aroma seemed to swirl around your body. It was intoxicating but slightly overwhelming. You felt frozen for just a moment, not quite understanding what was happening. With another deep breath you slowly stood up and scanned the room for any sign of someone else. As quickly as the tobacco smell came, it was gone. You shrugged the smell off to the history of the cottage and made your way back downstairs to begin unpacking and making yourself finally feel at home. 

The sun had slowly crept through your first floor windows and shown brightly against the kitchen cabinets. You looked at the clock you had just hung on the wall to see that it was 6pm. You had worked for hours trying to unpack all of the boxes the moving company had just piled into your living area. Thankfully, the moving company had taken your mattress upstairs for you so you didn’t have to figure out how to lug it up the tight cornered stairs by yourself. Deciding it was best to take the empty bedroom, you asked them to place it under the window that overlooked the ocean. The bedrooms were narrow, with only about two feet of space between both sides of the mattress and the walls. At the other end of the room was a built in closet that was actually a nice size considering how small the whole house was. The door opened up beside the closet, so there was really no other option for your bed. You were not a fan for your bed to be facing the door or the closet, but it would have to work. 

 Boxes on top of boxes had somehow dwindled down to a select few that you didn’t know what to do with. As you carefully climbed the steep stairs with box in tow, you felt just how tired your legs really were. You had climbed these stairs at least a thousand times today just trying to get everything in your desired spot. You had been avoiding the typewriter room. It just felt odd to you and you really had no use for it now, so deciding to use it as storage for now, you slowly pushed the heavy wooden door open with the cardboard box and peaked inside. No one, just the lonely typewriter. There was such a sadness in the room and you didn’t know how. There was no explanation but you understood with old houses came a lengthy wrap sheet of history inside the walls. You finished bringing the random boxes into the room to go through later. Slowly exiting the room, you once again felt goosebumps raise across your skin. You quickly slammed the bedroom door shut and almost ran down the stairs. 

“You’re just imagining things, it’s an old house. You’ve watched too many scary movies.” Scoffing to yourself. You turned to the front door which was from top to bottom glass and stared out to the ocean. You felt such a connection. There was just something special about the ocean. It always made you feel whole, even as a child when you didn’t know you were missing something, you knew it was to be in awe of. 

You made a mental note to buy curtains to place over the front and back doors to keep your privacy. The two doors mirrored each other in the house, you could walk a straight line from the front door to the back door and see right through both doors of glass. 

That night you sat in the floor of your living room, using an empty cardboard box as your coffee table to eat the pizza you had ordered in off of. Thankfully you did have a TV, so there would be a little bit of entertainment to keep you occupied before you started your new position on Monday.  

After watching what seemed like hours of trash TV, you decided to tuck yourself in for the first night in your new home. Brushing your teeth and doing your skincare in the only bathroom downstairs, you stared at yourself in the mirror. “Am I actually doing this? Is this actually real?” Your mind was spinning miles a minute and you hoped you would be able to turn it off enough to get a little rest. The first night in new homes never seems to go smoothly. You either can’t sleep because it’s too quiet or the ceiling fan is too loud, or the room is too hot or too cold. You were nervous for what you would find when you made your way upstairs in the darkness. You huffed when you realized the owners hadn’t thought of putting a light in the stairway when they remodeled the house, so you had to use your senses to make sure you didn’t fall tumbling down to the bottom. 

At the top of the stairs, you sped walked to get inside your bedroom and practically slammed your bedroom door shut. “What are you so afraid of.” You laughed at yourself. This would be a long summer if you couldn’t get it together. Crawling into bed, really just your mattress on the floor, you turned the switch of the lamp off and faced the window that was on the left side of the bed. You could only see the stars and the moon through the window panes, you stared for what seemed like minutes until your entire bedroom was suddenly lit up with a bright white light. You shot up in bed and stared. “What the hell” is all you could say. Until a few seconds later, your bedroom was lit up like the Fourth of July again. “There’s no fucking way, are you serious.” You hadn’t realized on the drive here or even unpacking your things, that Cape Hatteras Lighthouse was literally in your back yard. The lighthouse was close enough to shine its light through your bedroom window and make you feel like you just got busted for drugs by the police. The lighthouse’s light rotation takes about 7 seconds, which is more than aggravating when you’re trying to sleep. You flipped your body over like you were trying to slam through the floor and groaned. “Of course, I would get stuck with a creepy old house and the lighthouse in my backyard.” You grumbled. After calming down, sleep finally found you and you more than gladly welcomed the darkness. 

How long had you been asleep? You picked up your phone and the time read 3am. You huffed out another long sigh. Your bladder felt like it was going to explode. There was no falling asleep like this or you would most definitely wet the bed. You laid there for a few moments until you felt like you could brave the dark house in the middle of the night. Of course the only bathroom was downstairs. Why wouldn’t it be? 

You turned your bedside lamp on and rolled out onto your feet. Creeping down the dark stairs with only your phones flashlight, you didn’t sense anything. Everything felt calm to your surprise. There was no uneasiness and you didn’t feel like the devil himself would pop out around the corner. You finished your business quickly and started the ascent back up to your room. On the fourth or fifth step up, a rhythmic sound stopped you in your tracks. You stood silent and as still as a statue, your heart pounding so hard you could feel it in your toes. Your ears became hot as you realized what the sound was. The vintage typewriter. You were frozen. Even if you wanted to turn around and bust your way out the front door and squeal like a baby all the way back home, your body wouldn’t let you. Your feet felt like they had been cemented to the step.

Suddenly the bell of the typewriter rang out in the upstairs bedroom and the keys were being pressed in a quick but precise fashion. The person using the typewriter knew what they were doing and they seemed to be in a hurry to write whatever they were writing. You heard the paper being ripped out of the roller. Silence. No foot steps, no more typing, nothing but the ocean waves outside. You took a deep breath and steadied yourself on the wall of the staircase. Did you imagine all of it? Are you still just half asleep and dreamed it? Are you actually going insane? Everything felt like it was moving in slow motion and turning black, the world felt like it was swirling around your head and you squeezed your eyes tightly shut to try and stop the uneasy feeling. 

When you opened them, you were staring at your wooden bedroom ceiling. You followed the grooves of the shiplap until your eyes met the window you had been looking out to see the lighthouse light. The sun was warming your face and the brightness almost seemed too bright. You scrambled around your comforter to find your phone, which showed 8:45am. 

“There’s no possible way that’s right.” You quickly googled the time and realized it was correct. You had somehow blacked out on the stairs and made it into bed? How? Your mind was racing with confusion and then you remembered, the typewriter. 

You quickly opened up the text thread with your landlady and hit the call button. Hearing the ringing tone you couldn’t even conjure up what you were about to say. Were you just giving up? Was this going to break you? 

“Hello?” The sweet lady answered in a joyful tone. “Hi Mrs. Hartley, did you accidentally leave a typewriter and desk in one of the bedrooms upstairs?” 

There was silence on the other end of the line and you were becoming more and more anxious the longer she took to respond. “No honey, I didn’t leave anything in the house. It has been empty for over a year now.” She quietly answered in her sweet but concerned tone. “Is everything okay?” 

“Yes, yes. No worries at all. I had a great first night here. Thank you so much again!” You hit the red button before she could even think of a reply. 

You looked up to your bedroom door that was wide open and felt the goosebumps rise once again down your spine. What the actual fuck is happening here? 

[letmewanderinyourgarden2022]

NEW CHAPTER! A LITTLE EARLY. HAPPY NEW YEAR!

I dozed peacefully on a mossy riverbank lulled by the murmur of the lapping water.  Lying perpendicular to my companion, my head was lovingly cradled in the midriff of the other, a long finger gently circling across my forehead.  My eyes lazily followed the pillowy clouds floating above, in between fleeting winks of sleep. 

Contented. . .only to be startled awake by a loud, shrill, staccato tone. Blindsided by the sound, my eyes sprang open.  I was confused and disturbed by a crimson world pulsating around me.  The companion – gone.  As if pulled by an unseen tether, I arose.  My fingers plugged my ears to lessen the painful blare.  I stumbled forward into the stand of trees lining the bank, drawn to a red light flashing in sympathy with the intense sound. When I reached a clearing, all turned to black.

I violently shook my head trying to banish the insistent beep ringing in my ears. 

Shit!  The alarm.

Yawning, my hand searched the bed covers for the phone to end the obnoxious sound.  I groaned finding I was still dressed from the prior evening.  My fists twisted against closed eyelids to dispel the muzziness in my head. 

Ugh. . .jet lag. . .Fuck, fuck, FUCK!  What time is it?

I sprang from the bed and beelined to the kitchen focusing on the cell screen.

Okay. . .Seven. . .I can do this. . .

I hastily slapped a filter into the basket, dumped in the coffee and turned on the machine. Leaning low to the counter stretching my back, forehead on folded arms, I waited for the machine to stop gurgling, trying to wake up.  A competing sound – insistent and close by - drew my attention.  Turning my face to peer at the living room’s glass doors, a deluge curtaining the patio made itself known, raindrops bouncing high off the bricked deck. A grimace in resignation at the unexpected glitch spread across my face.

Of course. . .  

Standing by the patio doors sipping the much-needed coffee, I rethought my attire for the meeting in light of the uncooperative weather.  The reflection of my unruly tresses ghosted in the rain-greyed glass.  I mulled over options for taming them into something more professional looking than the spawn of Medusa.

My hair and rain just do not mix. . .

I sighed and wandered back to the bedroom closet, coffee in hand, sliding each hanger along the polished wooden rod selecting pieces to fit my mood.

Almost everything I brought is black. . . how appropriate. . .Black it is, then.  Professional. . .yes. . .but perhaps just a bit off center.

Selecting straight-legged pants and a soft, silky tunic from the hangers, I threw them on the bed. Still not satisfied, I spied one of my more durable vintage pieces – a velvet cape-like jacket with a burgundy and gold paisley running through it – and gently placed it with my other choices. The 40’s spectator pumps completed the outfit.  I rummaged through my accessories to locate the final pieces – two large, carved rosewood hair combs and dangling garnet earrings.

This will do nicely.  All black with a splash of red and a bit of gold.

After finishing my ablutions, I quickly slipped on the outfit, before tackling the hair situation.  I gathered the long spirals into a thick ponytail and fashioned a twist, secured with the two combs; two strands liberated at each temple.

Too poufy. . .but it will have to do. Ha, ha! Gibson Girl to go with the jacket. . .If I had more time. . .fuck!

I thought that glamming up a bit might distract from failed hairstyle.   Make-up was not something that I ever cared about, even though I did own some basics.  I chose to follow my usual path of foregoing any addition, other than a swipe of lip gloss.  A bit of scent was called for, though, and I dabbed drops of musky patchouli oil on my wrists and behind my ears.

I think that’s the best I can do, considering. . .

Slipping on the jacket, I checked my phone.  It was 8:15. I topped off the coffee and sat nervously on the edge of the couch – waiting.  Promptly at 8:30, three metallic taps clacked on the front door.  Through the peephole, I observed a pleasant looking middle-aged man slightly rocking back and forth under a large golf umbrella.

I unfastened the chain and opened the door.

“Good morning, Ms. Mott,” he nodded through the streams of water dripping from the tips of the canopy.  “I’m Mr. Page’s driver, James.  Do you need a few minutes?”

“Hi. . .Yes, just a minute or two.”

He stepped back slightly from the door.

“No – please come in, come in.” I waved him inside.  “This weather - ugh.  I’ll be quick.”

He moved to just inside the door, leaving the open umbrella resting on its handle on the doorstep. “Typical for this time of year, I’m afraid.  Don’t rush, we have time.”

I started to collect my laptop, papers and keys but stopped to turn back to him, puzzled.

“Wait – how does that work?  You’re James, right? And he’s James.  Ever become a tad confusing?”

“Not anymore,” he said with a toothy smile.  “I’m James; he’s Jim or Jimmy, mostly.  I’ve been with him for a very long time so it's worked out just fine, but we do have a few laughs about it now and then.”

“Huh. Okay.  Ready.” I followed James out the door, under the shield of the huge umbrella, hastening up the stairs to the waiting car.  Sheltering me from the downpour, he opened the door and I slid across the back seat.  He quickly threw in the umbrella and dove into the driver’s seat to avoid being drenched.

“Not the best welcome for your first full day in London,” he commiserated, glancing at me in the rear-view mirror. “I’ll leave you to your thoughts.  Just tap on the glass if you need anything.” The partition closed between us.

James took a route that passed some of the iconic sights of the city. I leaned my head against the window, taking in the London scenery through the raindrops.  Hyde Park’s greenery loomed to my left and as we skirted between the boroughs of Mayfair and Soho, Marylebone and Fitzrovia, I wondered what the day would bring.  The grandeur of Regency Park and its wrought-iron gates appeared through the rainy mist. 

I dug out my Blackberry to confirm that it all was, indeed, real.  There it was – the photo – Jimmy hovering at Perry’s shoulder with a sweet, goofy grin and mischievous eyes, silver-white hair loose and flowing. The date and time stamp revealed it was snapped just hours after I ended my January call with “Mr. Hudson.”  Its greeting flashed from my phone when I awoke the next morning.

Mmmm. . .that was. . .indescribable. . . And here we are. . .

James cracked open the partition.  “We should be arriving shortly, Ms. Mott.”

“Great, thanks, James.”  I took a deep breath and nervously bit my lip catching his eye in the rearview. Resting my head against the chilly leather seat, I was lost in the possibilities to come as the car halted at 12 Oval Road, Jimmy’s manager’s office.  Thankfully, it seemed the rain had passed.

I started to open the door, but James was quicker. “Ms. Mott, allow me, please.  I’ll be waiting here when you’re done, okay?”

“Oh, thank you, James.”  I scanned the façade, sighing deeply, “Okaaay. . .here we go!”

“You’ll be fine.  See you shortly.”

Perry was waiting just inside the doors.  “Jane.  How are you this morning?”

“Nervous, Perry, for some reason,” I creaked.

“No need, no need.  We’re just on the next floor.”

I followed him up the carved, mahogany stairs admiring the 19th-century features blended into a very contemporary design.  “Interesting mix of periods here. . . wow!”

“Yeah, it’s a converted warehouse.  They tried very hard to keep what they could.” He swung open a door to reveal a large conference room.  A dark-haired woman sat at a long table, flipping through a few papers.

She rose and walked the length of the table to greet me.  “Jane. So happy to meet you.  I’m Angela. . .Angie, Bill’s staff attorney,” holding out her hand.

“Angie, hi, likewise,” using my most professional handshake.  “You’re American.”

“Is it that obvious?” she laughed.

“Well, yeeaah, it is.  New York?” I teased.  She nodded. Following the normal greeting when attorneys meet for the first time, I continued, “So, where did you go to school, Angie?”

“Uh. . .Columbia, then here for a bit.”

Hmmm. . . I know that tone. Ha!

“Please have a seat, Jane. How about you?”

“Georgetown. . .” I slid into my seat at the center of the table opposite her. 

God, I hate that ass-sniffing ritual. . .very tiresome.  She seems to hold it in the same regard, though.  Ha.  Good.

“If you have time, I’d love to talk to you about your school experience in Britain while I’m here.  Very interested.”

“I’d love to fill you in. I’ll give you my card. . .Umm, Perry. . .you have everything?”

“Yeah, yeah, I do.”  He scrambled to take his seat at the table.

“Okay, why don’t we start with the non-disclosure?” She queried me over her reading glasses.

“Sure.”

“Alright.  No changes from the final draft?”

I shook my head.

“Great.  Here are two copies.” She placed each side by side in front of me.  “Please sign each one.  I’ll do the same as Mr. Page’s representative. Perry will witness.  We each will have an original execution.”

“Perfect. . .but, uh, can you give me a few minutes?” I unzipped the case and grabbed my laptop.  “I just wanna. . .you know. . .not that I don’t trust you or anything, but – “

“Right, understood, of course. . .Perry?” She nodded to the far corner of the room and stood up from the table.

“Oh. . .okay.” He joined her.

“So, what is the plan for. . .”  Their conversation quieted as they moved to the end of the table.  My focus centered on the screen, comparing it to the documents before me.

What the hell are you doing? This is not at all necessary. . .I know. . .I know. . .it's just a formality. . .but I don’t want any surprises. . .

Once satisfied there were none, I called out to the corner.  “Okay, all good.”

The couple retook their seats.  “The pens are right there.” Angie indicated a small, ornate box in the center of the table. 

I opened it to find crimson fountain pens nestled inside.  Unscrewing the cap, I circled the gold nib across a spare bit of paper. 

“This is a lovely touch.” 

A deep, rich, aquamarine-colored liquid flowed smoothly as I scribbled.

“Very, very nice pen!  Definitely no problem recognizing the originals,” I chuckled, “. . .interesting shade of ink.” 

I signed and dated each of the agreements and slid them to Perry for his witness.   After Angie scrawled her signature, she waived around one of the documents to dry the ink.  She folded the papers and slipped them into an envelope, pushing it across the table. I reached to return the pen to the box.

“No, no!  Please keep it – a memento.  Perry will discuss the remaining details with you.  I’m staying on just in case there are any questions.”  She turned her focus to Perry.

“Right. . .Jim. . .uh - Mr. Page. . .is currently at Sonning-on-Thames. It’s about an hour’s drive west.  He thought it would be an agreeable place to meet. . .it's a little village.”

“It sounds great!” I bubbled like a thirteen-year-old, much to my embarrassment.  “Sorry. . .go on, please.”

“We arranged lodging for you at The Bull Inn – lots of history there and Mr. Page would very much like to absorb- “

“Uh. . .Nope, Perry.  I believe we discussed this, did we not?  This is on my dime. . .or. . .pound or whatever, right?  Now, we don’t need to sign something, do we?”  I fluttered my eyelids, smiling sweetly.

“Yes, we did and no, we don’t,” he laughed. “I had to try.  Soooo, in that event, the innkeepers have offered a very nominal rate for your stay.  James will ferry you to Sonning and then back to London in a few days. That will give you a chance to enjoy the village."

I glared at him with somewhat feigned displeasure.  “Perry. . . now how is that any different??  Offered and nominal? Isn’t that still – what did you call it – absorbing?”

He remained silent, expectantly, brows raised.

I resisted a bit longer, really not wanting my adventure to be subsidized by Jimmy in any way. But. . .I gave in. “Okay, okay. . .deal.”

“Alright, good.  You haven’t made any firm plans as of yet, right?” I nodded. “Mr. Page was hoping that you would arrive later this afternoon, get settled in, and meet with him tomorrow.  We’re unsure of the exact time as he has some business calls scheduled.  I’ll figure that out and ring you with the time.  Is that to your liking?"

“Yes, that is absolutely to my liking.  What happens now?"

“James will pick you up around mid-afternoon and get you checked in at The Bull.” He stood, followed by Angie.

Apparently, we’re done.  Very painless.

“God, Perry, I am beyond excited!” I hastily stuffed the envelope, the laptop and the pen back into the case, zipping it closed.  “Thank you both for everything. Angie, I look forward to our chat and thanks for the. . .uh. . .memento.”

As Angie walked me to the door, her hand grazed my arm as she slipped her business card into my hand. “Jane, that is a great wrap! Is it original?"

"Oh, thanks. Uhh. . .I have a thing for antiques."

"Mmm. . .Beautiful. There are some great shops to check out then while you're here. I'll give a list to Perry for you. I have no doubt you going to have an interesting experience.  Have fun.  Please do call me when you get back.”

“I will.  See ya, Perry.”

James was waiting, as promised, as I flew out of the building’s entrance and down the marble stairs. 

“All good?” He asked with a knowing look. 

“Way more than good.”

I couldn’t suppress the thoughts of the "interesting experience," as Angie put it, looming over the next few days.  Gazing out the window, I saw no landmarks only the possible scenarios I was conjuring.  When we arrived at the flat, James and I set the time for the trip to Sonning. 

“Thanks, James.  See you soon.  I can get this - really – don’t get out.”

I sprang out of the car, rushed down the stairs and through the door, hooking up the laptop in record time.   Draping the jacket over the back of the chair, I started a quick internet search, googling The Bull Inn, Sonning-on-Thames.

Historic is right, 16th century!  Regardless of how it goes with Jimmy, this is gonna be extremely cool.  Ha! Like everything so far.

I excitedly investigated the village and environs, finding that Deanery Garden, Jimmy’s home, was right up the road from the Inn. I grinned. 

Okaaay then.

After the laptop was back in its case, I twirled to the couch and flopped enjoying a delicious prickly excitement. 

I have a few hours to kill. . .may just a tiny shot. . .What the fuck, Jane? . . .It’s only 11 o’clock- in the morning!. . .Yeah, well, it's afternoon US time. . .I definitely need to mellow out or I’m going to go insane. . .I'd kill for a joint. . .Ha!

Reasoning that food would take away the guilt of alcohol mid-morning, I searched the fridge for something appealing.  Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed a blue and white something on the counter. A basket had appeared in my absence, covered with a checkered cloth with a note on top:

Jane – sorry to barge in while you’re out.  I dropped off linens and a little treat. Please enjoy! I forgot to mention that Rob and I will be away for a bit.  We have friends visiting while we’re gone, so don’t be alarmed if you hear knocking about upstairs.  Just in case it’s needed, there is a spare key to your flat in the urn by our front door – a little key box mixed in with the greens. We’ll see you in a couple of weeks.  Dinner when we return?    Emily

I folded back the corners of the cloth to find fresh scones, clotted cream, and homemade strawberry jam.

Wow. . .so nice of her!  And just what I needed. . .ooooh. . .they’re still warm.

I put on the teapot after deciding it was too decadent to pair the scones with whiskey at mid-morning.  The late breakfast was divine.  As time was becoming short, I hastily poured a shot topping it with a splash of water and sauntered to the closet. I carefully placed my most treasured pieces into the waiting suitcase and bag, along with the deep red velvet tarot bag slipped in among the folds.

Precisely at three, the familiar rapping sounded and I threw open the door. 

“James, come in.  I’m ready.”

“Ms. Mott.”

“James. . .It’s Jane, please.”

“Right.  Let’s get you to the car, Jane,” he said as we grabbed my bags.

Once on our way, he called back through the open partition.  “There's lovely countryside along the way.  Let me know if you have any questions or want to stop, we’re not on a set arrival time.”

“Thanks. I think I need to do some reading to. . .uhm. . .stay calm, you know.”

“Jane, you’re not going to an execution!  Just tap the glass if you need me, okay?” he said as the partition slowly slid shut. I saw the amusement in the eyes looking back at me in the mirror.

I forced myself to focus on the new client prospectuses crammed, last minute, into my laptop bag.  Plugging in the flash drive plucked from the first folder, rhythms and melodies raced from the computer through my ear pods.  I gazed out the window as we sped by patchwork fields and hedgerows, listening to a sample from the short sets of three new bands seeking representation. They were all good – raucous and driving, but I kept returning to the tight grooves of the yet unnamed southern rock band.  “. . .heavy. . .somewhat complex. . .definite blues undertone. . .singer - a plus,” I wrote in the band’s workup.  I rewound their set to hear it in its entirety.  The opening number’s distorted low-down licks chimed with the cowbell intro of Honky Tonk Women, rough and gritty, followed by the unmistakable opening riffs of Custard Pie.

"You-are-fucking-kidding me," I snorted with laughter, apparently loudly.  I looked up to see a chuckling James glancing back at me in the mirror.  Grinning, I shook my head, shrugged my shoulders, and resumed noting my impressions of the bands.  In no time, the car slowed to a crawl.  The Bull Inn, a sprawling dark timber-framed country inn with white-washed walls and gabled, latticed windows came into view. We entered to find a warm and inviting atmosphere - a small reception desk to the right with a cozy bar visible thru an arched entrance in front of me.  Peeking into the room's entryway, I found a lovely brick and marble bar lit with stained glass lanterns near a massive brick fireplace with yellow-white flames dancing in its center. The sweet scent of birch wood tinged the air. The only other illumination in the room was the sunlight beaming through the row of tall, paned windows set into the exterior stone wall.  Sparkling motes of dust danced in the space between the windows and the tables in the shadows.  I was transfixed. 

“Jane?” James called from reception.

“Oh, yeah, sorry,”  I said as I slowly backed out of the bar, not quite ready to leave, and returned to the desk.

“This is Moira. She and her husband Kirk are the innkeepers. She’ll handle the registration, then I’ll get your bags upstairs.”

“So glad you’re joining us, Jane.  Just sign here, after you read thru, and then I’ll take you to your room.”

As we navigated the very steep and very narrow staircase to the next floor, Moira chatted about the things to do and see in Sonning.  I turned back to see James attempting to maneuver my large suitcase and bag up the stairs.  “God, I’m so sorry, James. . .I didn’t take into account 16th-century stairways when I packed!  Can I take that bag??”

“Ha!  Not a problem, Jane.”

With bags deposited and the low-down on Sonning received, I closed the door and explored my second temporary residence in as many days.  A couch and coffee table were tucked away in an alcove.  The bathroom contained a walk-in shower and a very roomy clawfoot tub.  As I lifted my suitcase onto the bed, I noticed an ecru-colored square propped against the dark blue pillows.  “Jane” was very neatly printed on the front in a now familiar color of ink.  I plopped on the bed, grabbed what I realized was an envelope, and turned it over.  There I found a dark red imprint.  My fingers traced the small dragon raised in the wax. Utterly amazed, I lifted the seal, as sparks of anticipation swirled down my spine.  Tucked inside was an ecru note card matching the envelope. As I pulled it out and flipped it over, I found a Gorey pen-and-ink overlaid on the front.

Wow! How could he possibly know that?

Gorey was a favorite of mine. Many of his books were tucked into my bookshelves at home. On the face of the card was drawn a woman, adorned with a wild hat of large snaking black lilies, dancing through a maze of tall drapes with a man garbed in white. When I opened the card, flowing penmanship in the same rich aquamarine was revealed.

Hello, Jane~Let’s meet tomorrow at half noon, shall we?  The Inn’s Hidden Garden is quite a lovely place to chat.  Moira or Kirk will show you the way.  We will have the garden to ourselves for your “brain-picking” session. I look forward to meeting you.

Till then ~ J.

Collapsing into the pillows, I giggled until I was breathless unable to contain my joy! I was certain it could be felt by everyone in the vicinity.

Oh my god. . .he is too much!!  He took the time to write me himself.  . .and the ink! Ha! I must ask about that! And Gorey - what the fuck? But how very sweet and so very. . .personal.  Not typewritten on JP letterhead!  And the seal. . .my, I think it's. . .definitely going to be an adventure.

Unbeknownst to me at the time, in the bar directly below, the writer was secreted in a far dark corner.  He had decided to observe my arrival from afar and now pondered the possible effect of his note in the room above.  Sipping his tea, he glanced up at the beams.  As a slight shiver twitched across his shoulders, he half-smiled into his cup; my mirth apparently had sought him out, found him, and made its presence emphatically known.

[BTW - I don't profess to be an artist - so my apologies to those of you who are 😊 And yes, Jane does have hands and facial features 😁]

CHAPTER LIST https://www.tumblr.com/letmewanderinyourgarden2022/701210499738714112/chapter-list-let-me-wander-in-your-garden?source=share

@firethatgrewsolow @foreverandadaydarling @laluxea @lzep @sassybouquetrunaway-universe @jimmysdragonsuit13 @jenyj89

[rewaso]

Creative DIY Garden Projects for Upcycling Old Items

Do you remember the day when you bought your first plant in a pretty pot? If yes, then you might know your this gardening hobby can turn into an expensive hobby. So, it would be better to turn the focus to upcycling. Get ready to turn all your garden ideas into reality without even burning a hole in your bank account.

It is a rewarding and creative activity to create upcycled garden projects by using junk, otherwise, that junk will end up in a landfill. Also, you can elevate and decorate your yard on a budget. From creating tire planters to repurposing window greenhouses, let our inspiring ideas turn your boring garden into a stunning one. 

Creative DIY Garden Projects for Upcycling Old Items

1) Tire Planters

You can transform your old tires into charming planters which will suit your garden perfectly. First, clean your tires thoroughly, then paint them using weather-resistant paint. After they get dry, you can stack multiple tires on top of each other. You can secure them by using adhesive or drill holes and use zip ties. At last, fill those tires with soil and small shrubs, herbs, or plant flowers. 

2) Pallet Vertical Garden

Wooden pallets can be easily repurposed into a vertical garden. Just stand the pallet in an upright direction, then on the back and sides attach landscaping fabric by using a staple gun or staples. It would be better to use potting soil to fill the spaces left between the pallet slats and then plant small flowers, herbs, or succulents. Remember to lean the pallet against a fence or wall, and finally, you can watch your vertical garden getting flourish.

3) Vintage Toolbox Herb Garden

Yes, you heard right, your worn-out and old toolbox can be turned into a beautiful herb garden. For this, clean your toolbox thoroughly and make sure there is no chemical residue left. If there is a requirement to add drainage holes, then go for it. Also, line it by using small pots or plastic sheets because they will prevent your soil from leaking out. Now, use potting soil to fill the toolbox and plant whatever is your favorite herb, like rosemary, basil, etc.

4) Bicycle Wheel Trellis

In the case of climbing plants like morning glories, you can utilize your old bicycle wheel for creating a unique trellis. As a next step, attach the wheel horizontally to a wall or fence, then secure it by using wire or screws. With this growth of plants, you can guide them by the wheel spokes, which will allow them to create a stunning visual display by climbing.

5) Tea Cup Bird Feeder

Use your vintage tea cups and saucers to transform them into adorable bird feeders. Through the center of the saucer and cup, you can drill a small hole. To secure them, you can thread a wooden or metal dowel through the holes and use nuts on both ends. Use a strong adhesive at the bottom of your cup, then attach it to the saucer to create a perch for the birds. You can hang the feeder from a shepherd's hook or a tree branch, and now, you can use birdseed to fill the cup.

6) Colander Hanging Basket

It's time to give a new life to your old colander by turning them into a hanging basket for flowers. Look for a colander having handles and must consider their drainage. You can make drill holes at the bottom and around the side. Use a landscaping fabric or coco liner to line the colander. Finally, add potting soil and start planting vibrant blooms such as pansies. For hanging the colander from a pergola or a porch, you can attach sturdy ropes or chains to the handles. 

7) Repurposed Window Greenhouse

For plant propagation or seed starting, you can convert your old window frame into a mini greenhouse. Make sure to clean the window thoroughly, then remove any kind of broken or loose glass. Now, take one side of the window frame to attach hinges that allow it to work like a door, such as opening and closing. You can place the window frame over your raised garden bed or just build a custom frame and secure it by using screws. Finally, at the top, add a glass sheet or transparent plastic. Your charming greenhouse is all set to nurture the plants.

Conclusion

With these above-mentioned fantastic ways, you can add an eco-friendly and unique touch to your garden. Don't forget to consider the suitability and weather resistance of the materials you're using outdoors. All you need is just some upcycled materials and little creativity. After that, you can turn your garden into an environmentally friendly oasis.

[biglisbonnews]

The Govan Cat in Glasgow, Scotland It is no secret that Glasgow, Scotland's largest city, is intrinsically linked to the shipping industry, due to its close proximity to the River Clyde. What is not as publicly recognized, is a miniature monument dedicated to an animal that saved a small community in a residential area to the northwest of the city center. The borough of Govan is situated alongside the western banks of the River Clyde. During the reign of Queen Victoria, this area was a thriving neighborhood closely linked to the prosperity of the shipping trade. Whole building blocks would be dedicated to the picking of oakum, a type of loose fiber that would be used as caulking between planks in wooden ships. Besides bringing well-being and security to the residents, these watery vessels also carried vermin. These undesirable pests could destroy expensive materials, as well as carry diseases. Enter a ferocious feline who was well known for ridden whole buildings of these destructive creatures. Unfortunately, this much-loved moggie met its end defending the community from a ferocious rat. The citizenry was so besotted with the heroic deeds of this feline that they decided to honor them with a small memorial. Attached to the southern portion of a sandstone Category B-listed building is a carved image of a cat. Ironically, the structure was initially used as Temperance (anti-alcohol) meeting place, but now houses Brechin's Bar, a vintage watering hole. https://www.atlasobscura.com/places/the-govan-cat

[flybirdhardware]

How to Choose the Best Sofa Legs for Your Home: A Complete Guide

Choosing the perfect sofa legs can refresh your furniture and elevate your entire room decor without breaking the bank. Changing or upgrading sofa legs allows you to transform the style, height, and functionality of your sofa, creating a customized look that suits your unique taste and home design. Here’s an in-depth guide to help you choose the best sofa legs, with recommendations from Flybird Hardware for top-quality options.

1. Match Your Sofa Legs to Your Room’s Style and Sofa Design

Start by thinking about the overall style of your room and the look you want for your sofa. The right sofa legs can tie together your decor, making your space feel more cohesive. Here are some ideas to guide your choice:

Modern Style: For a sleek, contemporary look, choose metal legs in finishes like matte black or polished chrome. Metal legs with clean, straight lines create a modern and polished effect, ideal for minimalist spaces.

Mid-Century Modern: If you love mid-century style, opt for tapered wooden legs. These add a warm, vintage touch and work well with both neutral and bright-colored sofas.

Rustic and Farmhouse: Wooden legs with a distressed or reclaimed finish bring a cozy, rustic vibe to your sofa, blending beautifully with natural materials and textures.

Flybird Hardware offers a wide range of sofa leg designs, including sleek metals and classic wooden options, allowing you to find the perfect fit to match any style or aesthetic.

2. Choose the Ideal Height for Your Sofa Legs

The height of your sofa legs significantly affects both the look and comfort of your sofa. The right height will depend on your sofa design, room layout, and personal preference.

Low Sofa Legs: These create a relaxed, casual feel and work well with deeper sofas or low-profile furniture. Lower legs can also make a room feel more intimate, ideal for family spaces and cozy nooks.

Tall Sofa Legs: Taller legs create an airy, open look and are a great choice if you want to make your room feel more spacious. They’re especially beneficial in smaller spaces or if you have other elevated furniture in the room.

Flybird Hardware offers sofa legs in a range of heights, so you can select the height that feels most balanced for your space, ensuring both comfort and style.

3. Select Sturdy and Durable Materials

When it comes to sofa legs, durability is key. High-quality materials ensure that your sofa is not only stylish but also well-supported and long-lasting. Some popular materials include:

Wood: Solid wood legs offer durability and a timeless look that complements various sofa styles. Look for hardwoods like oak, maple, or walnut for strength.

Metal: Metal legs are ideal for modern and industrial decor. Stainless steel and aluminum are both durable and resistant to wear, making them perfect for high-traffic areas.

High-Quality Plastics: If you’re seeking a more affordable option, high-quality plastic can be a good choice for lightweight sofas. Just make sure to choose a sturdy plastic that can support the weight.

Flybird Hardware specializes in sofa legs crafted from premium materials, designed for long-term use without compromising style.

4. Pick a Finish That Complements Your Decor

The finish of your sofa legs can make a big impact on the overall look of your room. Choose a finish that either matches your decor for a cohesive look or contrasts for a bold style statement.

Matching Finishes: If you want a seamless look, choose legs that match other metal or wood finishes in the room, like cabinet handles, side tables, or other furniture legs.

Contrasting Finishes: Contrasting finishes can create an eye-catching effect. For example, matte black legs on a light-colored sofa provide a modern, bold look, while brass legs can add warmth and elegance to a neutral sofa.

Flybird Hardware offers a wide range of finishes, including brass, chrome, matte black, and natural wood, allowing you to create a custom look that enhances your living space.

5. Explore Unique Shapes and Designs for a Statement Look

Sofa legs come in many shapes, from traditional straight styles to unique geometric designs. If you’re looking to make your sofa a focal point, consider selecting legs with an interesting shape:

Geometric Shapes: Angled or geometric legs create a bold, modern look and add an artistic element to your sofa.

Curved and Ornate Legs: For traditional or vintage-style decor, look for legs with curved or carved designs that bring a touch of elegance to your furniture.

Flybird Hardware offers unique and artistic leg shapes, making it easy to find a style that enhances your decor and adds personality to your sofa.

Conclusion

Choosing the right sofa legs can completely transform your living room decor, creating a space that reflects your style and needs. From classic wood to modern metal, Flybird Hardware offers a variety of high-quality sofa legs that suit any aesthetic, providing both durability and style. With these tips, you can confidently choose sofa legs that enhance your home and make your sofa stand out.

[greatnewstories]

5 Easy DIY Decor Ideas to Transform Your Living Space on a Budget

Revamping your living space doesn’t have to mean spending a fortune. A little creativity, time, and effort can go a long way in transforming your home into a stylish, comfortable sanctuary. With DIY projects, you not only save money but also add a personal touch that reflects your taste and personality. Here are five easy DIY décor ideas to elevate your living space while keeping costs low.

1. Revive Walls with DIY Artwork

Blank walls can make a room feel lifeless, but filling them with art doesn’t have to break the bank. Creating your own artwork is a fun and cost-effective way to breathe life into your space.

Start by gathering materials you might already have, such as canvas, paints, or even old picture frames. For a minimalist aesthetic, you can paint abstract designs using neutral or monochromatic colours. If you’re feeling adventurous, try creating a gallery wall by combining your artwork with framed family photos or prints from thrift stores.

Alternatively, experiment with materials like fabric or wallpaper remnants. Stretch a piece of bold, patterned fabric over a wooden frame for instant wall art. Another option is to create geometric patterns using washi tape directly on your walls. It’s easy to apply, removable, and perfect for renters who want to avoid permanent changes.

This DIY approach not only adds visual interest but also gives you a sense of accomplishment every time you walk into the room.

2. Upcycle Old Furniture for a Fresh Look

Old furniture doesn’t have to end up in the landfill. With a bit of imagination and elbow grease, you can turn outdated or worn pieces into stunning focal points. For instance, a shabby wooden coffee table can be sanded down and repainted in a bold colour or finished with a wood stain for a rustic look.

Chairs, dressers, or even bed frames can be transformed with simple updates. Changing drawer handles, for example, can make a piece look entirely new. Handles in modern designs are affordable and widely available at hardware stores.

Another popular upcycling project is creating a feature piece using decoupage. Select decorative paper, such as old maps, vintage prints, or even magazine clippings, and adhere them to furniture surfaces using decoupage glue. This technique works particularly well for side tables or cabinet doors, adding a unique and artistic flair.

By upcycling, you not only save money but also reduce waste, contributing to a more sustainable lifestyle.

3. Create Cosy Ambiance with DIY Lighting

Lighting plays a crucial role in the mood and functionality of a room. Adding unique, handmade lighting can elevate your décor while staying within budget.

One easy project is to create a DIY pendant light using items like wire baskets, mason jars, or even paper lanterns. For example, wrap fairy lights around a wire basket to create a soft, industrial-style chandelier. Mason jar lights are another versatile option, requiring only jars, bulbs, and a little wiring (easily done with online tutorials).

Candles are also a fantastic way to add warmth and ambiance. You can make your own candles using inexpensive kits or by repurposing old jars and filling them with wax. Add essential oils for a touch of fragrance and a more personalised vibe.

For a truly unique lighting feature, try a shadowbox light. Fill a shallow frame with a decorative cut-out or photo, then place LED strip lights behind it. When illuminated, the shadowbox creates a soft glow and doubles as a piece of artwork.

4. Spruce Up Your Space with Indoor Plants and DIY Planters

Nothing brings life into a space quite like greenery. Indoor plants not only improve air quality but also add a sense of tranquillity to any room. However, buying decorative planters can be costly, so why not make your own?

Repurpose everyday items as planters, such as tin cans, teacups, or glass jars. A coat of spray paint can instantly turn these items into chic plant holders. For a more rustic look, wrap your containers in twine or burlap.

You can also build a small vertical garden using wooden pallets or an old ladder. Attach small pots to the structure and fill them with low-maintenance plants like succulents or herbs. Vertical gardens are particularly effective in small spaces, as they maximise greenery without taking up floor space.

For those who prefer a modern aesthetic, try creating concrete planters. All you need is a bag of quick-dry cement, some moulds (such as plastic cups), and a bit of patience. These sleek planters provide a contemporary contrast to lush greenery.

Plants are an affordable way to refresh your space, and making your own planters adds a personal touch to the display.

5. Transform Textiles for a Fresh, Customised Look

Textiles are often overlooked, but they have the power to completely transform a room’s aesthetic. Creating your own cushion covers, curtains, or throws is an easy way to update your décor without spending much.

Start with old or plain fabric that you already own. Using fabric paint or dyes, create custom patterns like stripes, polka dots, or even tie-dye effects. Stencils are another option for creating intricate designs on cushions or tablecloths.

No-sew projects are great for beginners. For example, make a throw blanket by cutting fleece fabric to your desired size and fringing the edges. Simply tie the fringes together for a cosy, handmade finish.

Another idea is to layer your space with rugs for added texture and warmth. Instead of buying new ones, try making a rag rug using old T-shirts or scraps of fabric braided together. It’s an eco-friendly way to add character to your floors while reducing waste.

Customised textiles not only brighten your space but also make it uniquely yours.

Conclusion

Transforming your living space doesn’t have to cost a fortune. With a little creativity and effort, you can use DIY projects to make your home feel fresh, inviting, and uniquely yours. Whether it’s creating custom artwork, upcycling furniture, or crafting planters and textiles, these budget-friendly ideas allow you to add personal touches that truly make a house feel like a home.

By taking on these DIY projects, you’ll not only save money but also enjoy the satisfaction of having created something beautiful and meaningful for your living space. So, gather your materials, let your imagination run wild, and start transforming your home today!

[qb-stay]

Explore Malappuram's Best Resorts: Book with QB Stay Today

Discover the charm and beauty of Malappuram, Kerala, by staying at the best resorts in malapuram this stunning destination has to offer. Whether you’re looking for a peaceful retreat surrounded by nature or a cozy getaway with family and friends, Malappuram has something for everyone. With QB Stay, booking your perfect accommodation is just a few clicks away. We specialize in offering budget-friendly options, from luxurious resorts to charming homestays, ensuring you get the best experience without breaking the bank. Let QB Stay be your guide to unforgettable stays in Malappuram book today and begin your journey to tranquility and adventure!

HERITAGE CLASSIC ROOM

Step into a world of timeless elegance with our Heritage Classic Room. Designed to offer a blend of traditional charm and modern comfort, this room features exquisite wooden furnishings, intricate décor, and soft lighting that creates a warm and inviting atmosphere. The room boasts a spacious layout with a king-sized bed, premium linens, and a cozy seating area perfect for relaxation. Enjoy modern amenities such as air conditioning, high-speed Wi-Fi, a flat-screen TV, and a well-equipped bathroom with luxurious toiletries. Whether you're here for business or leisure, the Heritage Classic Room offers a perfect retreat for those seeking both comfort and authenticity.

HERITAGE SUIT ROOM

Indulge in luxury and sophistication with our Heritage Suite Room, a perfect blend of classic charm and contemporary elegance. This spacious suite offers a serene escape with its beautifully crafted wooden interiors, vintage-inspired décor, and a calming color palette that exudes warmth and style. The suite features a plush king-sized bed, an expansive living area with elegant furnishings, and a private balcony offering breathtaking views. Equipped with modern amenities such as air conditioning, a flat-screen TV, high-speed Wi-Fi, and a luxurious bathroom with premium toiletries and a soaking tub, the Heritage Suite Room provides an unparalleled experience of comfort and indulgence. Perfect for guests who desire extra space and a touch of regal luxury, it promises a stay that combines both relaxation and opulence.

HERITAGE DELUXE ROOM

Experience the perfect blend of heritage and modern luxury in our Heritage Deluxe Room. This elegantly designed room combines traditional craftsmanship with contemporary comfort, featuring rich wooden accents, classic décor, and a soothing ambiance. The spacious layout includes a luxurious king-sized bed with premium linens, a cozy sitting area for unwinding, and a thoughtfully designed workspace. Enjoy the convenience of modern amenities like air conditioning, a flat-screen TV, high-speed Wi-Fi, and a stylish en-suite bathroom with high-quality toiletries. Whether you're here for a short getaway or an extended stay, the Heritage Deluxe Room offers the ideal setting for relaxation and rejuvenation, ensuring a truly memorable experience.

Escape to the beauty of Kerala with your partner by booking through QB Stay, the trusted online booking app. Whether you’re looking for a peaceful hill retreat, a romantic riverside getaway, or a luxurious resort, QB Stay offers the perfect destinations to unwind and create unforgettable memories.

[indiancraft1]

Why Indian Handicrafts Are the Perfect Gifts for Every Occasion

Gifting something handmade, unique, and timeless in a world filled with factory-made goods creates a lasting impression. Indian handicrafts, with their rich artistry and intricate details, make the perfect gifts for every celebration—be it weddings, birthdays, anniversaries, or housewarmings. From Customizable Macrame Curtains to Colorful Dream Catcher Keychains, Indian crafts offer thoughtful options that blend beauty, culture, and functionality.

Let’s explore why Indian handicrafts should be your go-to choice for gifting.

Handmade Uniqueness and Personalization

Indian handicrafts stand out because they are often handmade, ensuring no two items are the same. From Handmade Beaded Curtains to Macrame Wedding Favors, each piece carries the artisan’s care and creativity.

Customizable Options: Products like Customizable Macrame Curtains or Handmade Modern Table Lamps can be tailored to the recipient’s taste.

Unique Room Decoration Items: Whether it’s a Family Tree Sculpture or a Modern Boho Table Lamp, handcrafted gifts are perfect for creating a memorable impression.

When you gift Indian crafts, you’re gifting exclusivity.

Perfect for All Occasions

Indian handicrafts are versatile and suitable for any celebration:

Festivals: Brighten up homes with a Colorful Beaded Curtain, Sun Catcher Wind Chimes, or a stunning Clear Chandelier Bead Garland.

Weddings: Thoughtful presents like Macrame Wall Plant Hangers or Crystal Beaded Chandeliers bring elegance and charm to new beginnings.

Housewarming Gifts: Transform any home with Handmade Boho Window Decor or Wood Bead Curtains that combine beauty and utility.

Corporate Gifts: Products like Glass Beads for Wind Chimes or Wholesale Home Decor Items make unique and thoughtful gifts for clients and colleagues.

With options for all budgets, Indian handicrafts are ideal for any occasion.

Enhancing Home Decor with Indian Crafts

Gifting Indian handicrafts adds character to homes. Whether someone loves a bohemian vibe or a vintage look, there’s something for everyone:

Boho-Themed Decor: Items like Boho Beaded Curtains or a Triple Macrame Plant Hanger create cozy, bohemian spaces.

Elegant Additions: Gifts such as Crystal Beaded Chandeliers or Vintage Beaded Lamps bring timeless sophistication to any room.

Functional Beauty: Pieces like Modern Macrame Curtains and Handmade Modern Table Lamps blend style and practicality.

Indian crafts allow recipients to celebrate art while transforming their living spaces.

Supporting Sustainability and Tradition

Handmade Indian handicrafts are often eco-friendly and sustainable. Products like Wooden Beads for Doorways, Macrame Curtains, and Suncatcher Beaded Curtains are made with natural or recycled materials, reducing environmental impact.

By gifting Indian crafts, you are:

Supporting local artisans and preserving their traditional skills.

Promoting sustainable gifting and reducing plastic waste.

Adding eco-friendly charm to celebrations with handcrafted beauty.

Affordability with Luxury

From Colorful Dream Catcher Keychains to stunning Crystal Curtains Near Me, Indian handicrafts offer something for every price range. You can find affordable yet luxurious gifts that add value and beauty, no matter your budget.

Whether it’s a small decorative piece or a grand centerpiece like a Crystal Beaded Chandelier, Indian crafts offer unmatched elegance without breaking the bank.

Wholesale and Export Gifting Solutions

For businesses and bulk gifting needs, Indian handicrafts are the perfect solution. Leading Wholesale Home Decor Manufacturers and Wholesale Home Decor Exporters offer beautifully crafted items that are ideal for corporate events, large gatherings, or festive gifting.

Items like Handcrafted Home Decor Items, Colorful Beaded Curtains, and Macrame Plant Hangers can be sourced in bulk, ensuring premium quality at competitive prices.

Conclusion

Indian handicrafts are more than just gifts—they’re stories of tradition, culture, and artistry. From Colorful Beaded Curtains to Modern Macrame Curtains, these handcrafted treasures make every celebration unique and heartfelt.

Whether it’s a wedding, birthday, housewarming, or corporate event, Indian crafts are perfect for creating memories that last forever.

[bigedred]

Vintage 1961 Hubley Battery Operated The Official Mr. Magoo Tin Car Top not incl

Vintage 1961 Hubley Battery Operated The Official Mr. Magoo Tin Car Removable Top Not IncludedVintage 1961 Hubley Battery Operated The Official Mr. Magoo Tin Car Removable Top Not Included. This item is in its factory box but the Magoo car will look used and have scratches on the car. The Magoo car was tested and still works. The removable top will not be included. The factory box will be a replica box and will not be the original factory box. "The vinyl Mr. Magoo head can not be removed from body because of the age of item".

Materials: tin, plastic, fabric, metalSize: 9" long 8" tall Made in Japan, distributed by Hubley of Lancaster, PA ©1961 Seats are made of plastic and Mr. Magoo's head is vinyl. Factory Box has colorful illustrations.1961 Hubley Official 'Mr. Magoo' toy car. Tin litho Magoo car. Detachable roof not included. Made in Japan, distributed by Hubley of Lancaster, PA. Steers. rocks, rattles. Runs on 2 D batteries (not included). Replica box. This would be a great addition to a metal car/toy collection.HISTORY:“The Hubley Manufacturing Company of Lancaster, Pennsylvania, one of the oldest and largest makers of toys in the United States, was founded in 1894 by John E. Hubley to manufacture equipment and accessories for electric trains. Financial difficulties forced Mr. Hubley to sell the entire stock in 1909. At this time the electric train business was discontinued and the cast iron toy business started. Among the first toys produced were a coal range, circus wagons and mechanical banks, all collector’s items today.Included in the 68,000 square feet of floor space in the Hubley plant were a die-cast room, warehouse, tool room, paint room and all the special assembly machinery. Besides making their cast iron toys, the company made castings for other companies in Lancaster which were without foundry equipment.By 1940 increased freight costs and foreign competition forced the company to look for other materials. During World War II scarcity of metal forced the company out of the toy business and into war-related items. After the Korean conflict ended and regulations on metal were suspended, cast iron toy production resumed.Following common manufacturing methods of the time, Hubley toys of the 1890s, and for a time thereafter, were cast in sand molds in two parts which were then riveted together to form the toy. All toys were designed by John Hubley, who had remained deeply interested in children’s playthings since the time he first made his own children’s wooden toys.In 1936 Hubley started casting in multiple cavity steel dies. Die castings were broken off, trimmed, and tumbled in revolving cylindrical machines. They were then taken to the paint department where they were given baked enamel or lacquer, air-dried paint finishes in various colors. At one time, a dozen girls were employed in the paint department. Portions of the earlier toys were hand painted and some were dipped.Each different toy was started on its own moving assembly line where parts were added, details sprayed on, oiling and inspection took place and the assembly completed. For example, a fire engine took shape on one line. It started as a red chassis. The rubber-tired wheels were added, followed by the spraying on of the radiator, bumpers and headlights. The driver was added, and the ladder, fire axes and other accessories followed. Near the end of the line, the toy was individually boxed and packed in a corrugated container. In 1949, due to union disputes, the foundry was closed. This was a difficult decision for the firm, since Hubley was one of the first companies to devote their entire factory to die casting.The Hubley Company maintained a designing department where ideas were conceived and developed for model forms. Design engineers kept up-to-date on the models and style changes by attending automobile shows and studying advertisements. Their designs changed when the larger counterparts changed. After items were conceived and models developed, the toys were analyzed for pricing. The more play features a model had, the more expensive it was.

Listing and template services provided by inkFrog

[charmbox]

Piggy Bank for Kids

Unlock the perfect piggy bank or coin box for everyone! 🐷💰 From charming ceramic and rustic wooden to high-tech electronic options, we have something for all tastes. 🎨✨ Explore personalized and vintage styles to add a unique touch to your savings. Start saving in style and make every cent count! 

Shop now 🛒https://charmbox.in/ 

#PiggyBankforKids #CoinBankforkids #CutePiggyBankDesigns #Charmbox

[gvfmarge]

Lighthouse of my Soul

(Ghost)Jake x Reader Coming soon!

“Could you be the lighthouse for my soul, could you be the guiding light, tell me everything’s alright? Could you be the one I love so?”

Some chapters will contain smut and difficult topics, MDNI 18+

Little sneak peak (this is unedited, apologies in advance):

Were you running away? From what? It didn’t matter. You felt like you had finally reached your destination. You felt the ocean was your new beginning. The Outer Banks had always been your comfort place, growing up vacationing here was always your favorite. It felt like home every time you visited, so it was a no brainer when you had been offered a temporary position at the local newspaper in Hatteras. You felt that you were going to finally make something of yourself. All the hard work you had put into studying and writing was going to pay off.

You had luckily stumbled upon a tiny cottage to rent. The owner explaining it had been built in 1874 and had weathered many storms and tribulations. It had originally been part of the life-saving station before they had built a newer building and eventually became the Coast Guard. The house had endured damage along the years from storms and each time had been repaired. When you stepped foot inside, you could feel the history. The floorboards squeaked with each step inside, taking a deep breath it smelled like sea salt and fresh air. Everything in the house was basically original. The dark hardwood floors showed signs of wear, with little scratches here and there and you could see the discoloration throughout the house where many footsteps had worn down the stain. The walls were fully covered in shiplap and had been sanded down and painted a beautiful light blue color. The kitchen was small, with only 3 overhead cabinets, a small older fridge and a stove. The living room was connected to the kitchen, you could barely see where the owners had taken out the wall to try and have somewhat of an open concept. Slowly inspecting each room, you came to realize just how small it was compared to the pictures you had viewed online. You realized you might not even have enough space for a couch and a table, but you would figure logistics out later. Walking up the steep rickety stairs you came upon a short hallway, at the end was a window stretching from the ceiling to the floor with an amazing view of the beach and ocean outside of the house, from the second floor it seemed you could see forever over the horizon. There are two bedrooms split by the hallway. Looking inside the room to your left, you noticed a small desk sitting underneath a window looking out to the ocean. On it, sat an empty white vase and a typewriter. It piqued your curiosity, the home came unfurnished and you were not made aware of anything left behind for you to use.

Walking over to it, you sat down in the tiny wooden chair and ran your fingers over the vintage keys. As soon as your fingertips met with the cold metal, you felt electricity flow through your hand, up your arm and down your spine. Goosebumps rose over your skin and you quickly pulled your hand away. The shock and stress of moving must be getting to you, you thought. You gazed out the window taking in the ocean waves. You were finally alone, it felt peaceful but somehow, you felt a longing in the house. There was something that you couldn’t quite place your finger on.

You felt a presence with you and quickly turned around to the entrance of the room. You could have sworn you felt eyes on you but there wasn’t a soul there. You slowly turned your body around again to face the window and your mind wondered back to the memories you had that led you here. Suddenly, a faint smell of tobacco burning filled the room. The sweet but heavy aroma seemed to swirl around your body. It was intoxicating but slightly overwhelming. You felt frozen for just a moment, not quite understanding what was happening. With another deep breath you slowly stood up and scanned the room for any sign of someone else. As quickly as the tobacco smell came, it was gone. You shrugged the smell off to the history of the cottage and made your way back downstairs to begin unpacking and making yourself finally feel at home.

[zeug24]

Industrial designs in Zurich West

The former industrial district of Kreis 5 has come alive with studios, ateliers and shops that are edgy enough to snap at the überstyled heels of London's Shoreditch district.

In just under a decade, Zurich has successfully shed its staid banking image to reveal a fresh and creative sensibility. Gone are the days when most visitors came only to check on their private bank accounts; today the city attracts a variety of world travellers, many lured by the city’s new retail offerings.

Related article: The stranger side of Switzerland

As they have in the past, the mainstream and upmarket shops that pepper the Altstadt (Old Town) still cater to a core of designer label-conscious locals and visitors (just take note of the number of Louis Vuitton bags carried along the main shopping street, the Bahnhofstrasse). But today, the transformed former industrial district of Kreis 5 in Zurich West has come alive with studios, ateliers and shops that are as trendy as those found in Berlin or Barcelona, and are edgy enough to snap at the überstyled heels of London's Shoreditch or New York's Meatpacking districts.

Despite being Switzerland's largest city, Zurich is compact and easy for shoppers to navigate, with an efficient tram, bus and boat service each offering their own glimpses of urban life. But often the best way to shop in Zurich is simply to walk. The area around Kreis 5 can be covered on foot in a day, and there are plenty of cafes, restaurants and bars in which to take a break (or as they say in Zurich, a “kleine Pause”) along the way. 

Where to shop

Many of the stores and ateliers in Kreis 5 are run by independent designers, and thus are open later in the day and have sporadic hours throughout the week. Generally, Wednesdays, Thursday, Fridays and Saturday afternoons are the best times to find open shops – but this route will ensure you make the most of your time.

Start your shopping trip at the Freitag Flagship Store on Geroldstrasse, which opens at 11 am every weekday and 10 am on Saturdays. Like the rest of Zurich, it is closed on Sundays. The business, founded by two brothers, has become a symbol of Zurich's pared down industrial style. And the shop -- full of unique recycled tarpaulin bags in styles ranging from messengers to rucksacks and accessories like mobile phone and tablet covers -- is an architectural oddity made from five stacked freight containers.

Located on either side of Freitag are Bogen 33 and Walter, two vintage furniture stores selling design classics and quirky pieces from the 1950s onwards. Bogen 33, one of the first stores to open in Kreis 5, is a subterranean den with original, colourful pop-art designer chairs, tables, sofas and lights. Walter is a brighter ground level space that contains a number of solid wooden pieces like original sideboards and drinks cabinets that hark back to the Mad Men-era of the late 1950s and early 1960s.

After you have mentally redecorated your home, follow Geroldstrasse past the cluster of techno clubs to Im Viadukt, a group of newly renovated railway arches that now house about 30 independent shops, selling everything from clothing to kitchenware. Fashionslave, with its graphic design-inspired fittings, was one of the city’s first stores to cater to the fashion-conscious male, with personal grooming in one section of the shop and a stylist on hand to help you select the best European designer threads.

Im Viadukt’s food hall, Markthalle, sells fresh local ingredients and speciality foods from Switzerland and abroad. Take a break at Restaurant Markthalle, the food hall’s child-friendly lunch spot, which offers a seasonal menu of wholesome local organic produce, served in a rustic style (and one of the only venues in Zurich to serve all-day brunch on Sundays). Try the mountain lamb chops from the canton of Graubünden, or mixed sliced meat platters called Metzgerei. Vegetarians will have at least a couple of options on the menu, and many of the products are also available to buy from the adjacent food hall. Try to avoid the noon rush, when most Zürchers have lunch.

After lunch, head across the street to Heinrichstrasse 177, where you will find the charming compact and bijou studio of Anne-Martine Perriard, a women's wear designer who specialises in decadent silk and velvet clothes in muted tones. Her recent collection represents a contemporary take on 1940s French fashion, and in keeping with her preference for the most tactile of materials, she recently branched out into creating soft fabric and leather handbags and purses.

Next, turn left down Ottostrasse to Neugasse, where there is a Dada-esque quality about the next destination. Estelle Gassmann's witty artworks comprise of household objects, such as china serving platters or simple wire mesh waste paper bins, that are brought to life with sprawling alien-like tendrils made of plastic, porcelain, glass and clay, transforming them into surprisingly beautiful and quirky objets d'art.

From Neugasse, turn left onto Quellenstrasse to reach Josefstrasse, the main drag for most of the studios and boutiques in Kreis 5. Waldraud sells limited-edition contemporary furniture -- such as chairs, tables and lamps -- and fashion for women and men, all from designers as far afield as the Netherlands, Latvia and South Korea.

If you are in need of refreshment, then the cosy, wood-panelled confines of the nearby bar/restaurant Josef will cocoon you until you are ready to set forth again. The cocktails (alcoholic and non) are very tasty, and the vast gin selection is unsurpassed in Zurich. The restaurant is considered one of the best and most reasonably-priced in the city, as you can order tasting menus with  two to five dishes per person, including dessert from 36 Swiss francs to 70 Swiss francs.  The menu is unashamedly fleshy (highlights include pork belly, beef tartare or scallops) but there is always at least one vegetarian option, and the thyme polenta with chanterelle mushrooms is especially recommended.

Across Josefstrasse from Josef, Lesunja Goldschmiede sells bespoke gold jewellery made from new or old pieces, melted down to create a heady mix of delicate and bold new designs. She also takes your old gold as currency for new items. In a unique feature, you can learn how to make you and your partner's wedding rings in her workshops and one-to-one courses. Drop in, or contact her via the website to arrange a personal consultation visit, as schedules vary from course to course. 

On the opposite side of the street, Manu Propria is a spectacles store founded by two opticians who design and construct their own frames. They have made a name for themselves as the trendiest place in Zurich to go for serious specs and beautiful sunglasses. Their frames come in all materials, from traditional bone to contemporary Perspex, and they can tailor your prescription to any of their styles. They also have a charming little spectacle museum in their shop with vintage examples from different eras.

Just two doors down is the award-winning Senior Design Factory. As the name suggests, this is a collaboration between Zurich's older citizens, who teach skills like knitting, crochet and candle and soap-making to young designers, resulting in exciting design fusions, like knitted lampshades and sculptural soaps. They also hold workshops for the public; current course schedules are available on their website.

At their cafe/restaurant project called the Senior Design Cafe, you can see some of their waresin action; huge embellished tea cosies adorn the tables while customers lean on the embroidered seat cushions and sit on trendy reupholstered chairs. The food is great too – try the fresh all-day Z'Morge (breakfast) platter with fresh pancakes and croissants, plus a choice of cooked local organic eggs, meats and sausages and rösti (a buttery Swiss hashed potato dish).

Shopping tips

Do not expect to find a bargain. There is no such thing as cheap in Zurich.  Quality is king and Zurich's residents are often suspicious of reduced prices.

Your product is usually hand crafted by the designer from beginning to end (rare in these globalised times), so it is worth striking up a conversation with them to learn more about your purchase.