There’s nothing quite like rolling out of bed, cool water on your face to wash the sleep away, a hot pot of coffee, and turning on Fleetwood Mac. Saturday rolled in like a Prague fog today, calm and slow, a steep blowing from the hills of The Castle.
Sitting on a call with Istanbul midday yesterday, I saw the flicker of my phone out of the corner of my eye. “Hey! I am getting my blood drawn on Friday,” the husband wrote in a text, . . .
Fall has officially arrived in Prague with unromantic fanfare. Autumn, the season that always seems to creep up on us much too fast and sucks the life straight from the
In the unforgettable words of Mr. Beauregarde from “Charlie and the Chocolate Factory”, “Violet, you’re turning violet, Violet!” has begged me lately, have I been that grating, consuming purple little
Putting our car into reverse and backing out of the cottage yesterday, I turned and realized the back seat was covered with mushrooms. The cushions were actually rendered invisible in
After almost 1,000 kilometers, I have finally returned to the city homestead; Prague. A birthday rendezvous on the sun-blanched shores of Croatia, dappled with Germans and Italians and pastel umbrellas.