To my complete delight, just moments ago my husband found this teeny little claw in the grass. It even has bits of fur left in spots. To whom does this appendage belong? And where-oh-where is the rest of him?

This basket is traditionally known as a Nantucket Lightship Basket. This particular specimen was made by my stepfather, Howard G. Jones, who was an industrial designer and model maker, and the inspiration behind much of what I do today. He could make anything — for Sea & Ski, he modeled the first “Girl Watcher” sunglasses, and for GM he lent his talent towards designing the Futurama exhibition for the 1939-1940 World’s Fair. He even turned wooden buttons during the Great Depression. At the age of 75 or so he decided that he wanted to start making baskets. Baskets…really? This is one stunning example of his endeavor. This “the one egger”, is part of a larger nest, something like the baskets featured in this link. He made every element himself…from ripping the cane, to tooling the little hinges to turning the wood bottom. Hats off to you Mr. Jones.

So, these succulent images come from a French type book that was unearthed at a flea market in France by my over-the-top talented friends Kaari and Molly (who also happen to be sisters) on their second annual Chateau Dumas getaway. Thus far, I haven’t been able to join them on their excursions, but seeing the photos from their recent sojourn is almost as satisfying. Well, not quite. As a postscript to today’s visual feast, I should note that coincidentally Molly most generously posted a bit about Mrs. Easton…today. I say many thanks Ms. Meng!

I have carried this checkbook cover with me every day…for nearly 28 years. It has a beauty and a patina all its own.

The creators of Things Organized Neatly are my new heroes. Their site speaks to me on every level. We’ll be back here often.

In a time when everyone is trying to sell you on something (and not always telling the whole truth) the packaging on these goods struck me as refreshing and striking in their default to simplicity. The Emergency Drinking Water is from WWII, I believe, so not exactly available.

So, I digress for a moment into the land of the product pitch. Want the proper tool for the job? Then ditch all those fancy-ass dish towels in favor of these thirsty little monsters. I take pleasure in pairing the ideal tool with whatever task is at hand (makes life that much simpler), and I am driven to proselytize when I do.