Dear Friends, Every new year feels like standing at a harbour, the horizon stretching out before us. We hold our hopes like packed bags, unsure what storms or sunshine await. It is at such a threshold that I think of Ida Pfeiffer, born in Vienna in 1797, who chose to step boldly into the unknown. She was forty-five when she set out on her first great journey to circle the world, an age when society expected her to turn inward, not outward.

Courage rarely announces itself. It lives quietly in the everyday in those who rise again after loss, who speak gently when anger would be easier, who keep tending to what is fragile and unfinished. A Winter Scene in January Ordinary bravery is the strength to continue showing up. Not for applause or recognition, but because something within us insists that kindness matters, that hope deserves another chance.

Lately, I’ve been wondering if anyone is truly reading anymore. We scroll endlessly (and I include myself in this “we”), glancing at words the way one might catch glimpses of a passing crowd. Our eyes move, our fingers swipe, and we call it reading. But something essential is missing. Reading, in its truest sense, isn’t just the act of taking in words.

Landscape with Snow (1888) by Vincent van Gogh (Public Domain via Wikimedia Commons) Ink and Canvas: Letters to Vincent Van Gogh In this salon, I sit with the paintings of Vincent van Gogh and respond to them in the oldest way I know. By writing a letter. Each letter begins with a single work of art and follows where it leads: into colour and movement, into longing and consolation, into the quiet human questions that still live within the paint.

Landscape with Snow (1888) Vincent van Gogh (1853–1890) January begins quietly, like snow falling on open ground. The noise of celebration fades, and what remains is the simple rhythm of breathing, walking, and waiting for the world to turn again. Landscape with Snow (1888) by Vincent van Gogh (Public Domain via Wikimedia Commons) In Landscape with Snow, Vincent van Gogh paints that silence, not as emptiness, but as possibility.

Every life is a book in motion. We turn the page again and again. Sometimes with joy, sometimes with hesitation. Yet always forward. We cannot turn back. In our linear existence, we only understand forward. And it is in that forward movement, into the unknown, that we create our most brilliant art, our truest stories, and our deepest selves. Every life is a story.

Turning the Page: Welcoming 2026 with Tea, Toast & Trivia There is something quietly ceremonial about the first episode of a new year. It feels less like a launch and more like opening a door, pausing on the threshold before stepping forward. As 2026 begins, I wanted to start Tea, Toast & Trivia not with urgency or prediction, but with reflection.

Adventurous Spirits - Women Who Carried Us Across the World Dear Friends, There was a time when letters carried more than words. They carried presence, a voice across distance, a heartbeat pressed between paper and ink. In writing, we reached for one another, trusting that somewhere, someone would open our words and feel less alone. Letter writing was a lifeline for the women we will meet in this Adventurous Spirits series.

There is a quiet freedom that comes with time, a loosening of urgency, a deepening of sight. Age is not a narrowing, but an expansion. A way of seeing the world with softer edges and truer colours. The years do not take; they reveal. They show us what endures when appearances fade, what remains when striving settles into stillness. To grow older with grace is to walk lightly with what has been carried, to forgive both the world and oneself for being imperfect, and to recognize beauty not as something we chase, but as something that waits patiently within us.

“Every day I discover more and more beautiful things. It’s enough to drive one mad. I have such a desire to do everything, my head is bursting with it.” Claude monet There was a pause, a breath held by the garden itself when I stepped onto the path at Giverny. It was May 2009. It felt fanciful at the time, almost naïve, to imagine I was walking where Claude Monet once walked.

Project 2026 Faust Johann Wolfgang von Goethe's "Faust" is a literary masterpiece that has captured the imagination of readers for over two centuries. This epic drama delves into profound philosophical questions, presenting an exploration of themes such as the nature of good and evil, the pursuit of knowledge, and the complexities of the human condition. The play's multi-dimensional and thought-provoking characters, including the enigmatic Faust and the seductive Mephistopheles, offer insight into human nature and ambition.

Lifelong Learning and the Practice of Active Wisdom I often describe myself as a lifelong learner, and I do so without ambition or performance. I am not chasing mastery, credentials, or novelty for its own sake. What I am practicing, deliberately and with care, is a way of staying mentally alive. Lifelong learning is often misunderstood. It is frequently framed as activity.

There is a stillness that falls between the old year and the new — a pause that feels like the held breath of time itself. The days are short, the evenings long, and yet there is light in the quiet — a whisper that invites us to begin again. New Beginnings As Meister Eckhart reminds us, “And suddenly you know: It’s time to start something new and trust the magic of beginnings.” In this space between what has been and what will be, we are given a gift — not of resolutions or lists, but of renewal.

Winter mornings dawn softly, the hush before the world awakens, the glow of light through the window, the faint echo of a remembered hymn. The candles are all lit now, and their flames join as one: hope, peace, joy, and love blending into light eternal. Light Eternal Grace lives here, in the ordinary and the wondrous, in the laughter of family, in the memory of those we hold in our hearts, and in the quiet truth that light will always return.

The Adoration of the Shepherds Charles Le Brun (1619–1690) There are paintings that lift our gaze, and there are those that bring it gently down to a child, to the earth, to the quiet miracle before us. Charles Le Brun’s The Adoration of the Shepherds does both. Amid the soft glow of candlelight and the watchful faces of shepherds, the scene gathers all creation around the cradle of peace.

Unwrapping the Gifts of Jane There is something timeless about sharing tea at Christmas. It is a ritual of warmth and conversation. This year, I invite you to join me for A Christmas Tea with Jane Austen, a special Tea, Toast & Trivia episode that celebrates the enduring gifts Jane left to us: wit, companionship, and resilience. My own journey with Jane began in Bath, where her world comes alive in the graceful curves of the Crescent and the lively spirit of the Assembly Rooms.

As the longest night of the year has come, we gather light where we can in candles, in faces, in love freely given. On Christmas, the Advent candle glows with that warmth. Love is not a possession; it is a gift that grows brighter as it is shared. Fourth Candle - Love On this Christmas morning, may you feel the nearness of those you cherish, whether across the room or across the miles.

Welcome to Tea Toast & Trivia. Thank you for listening in to a Christmas Eve reflection on the poem that changed how we see Christmas. Christmas Eve brings us once more to words that have shaped the wonder of generations. Tonight, we return to Clement Clarke Moore’s beloved poem, a story that reminds us that imagination, generosity, and joy are timeless companions.

It is Christmas Eve, and the year is 1815. Outside, the world lies hushed beneath winter’s breath, and within the house, the work of preparation has begun. The evergreens have been brought in. Holly for cheer, ivy for endurance, bay for remembrance. Their scent mingles with woodsmoke, filling the air with the promise of celebration. Jane Austen at 250: Christmas Eve with Jane Candles are being set in each window, small beacons against the early dark. A Yule log, blessed with a quiet prayer, waits by the hearth to be lit when the evening deepens.

On this Christmas Eve, I imagine Jane Austen writing to us — her words carried across centuries, as lively and tender as the letters she once sent to her sister Cassandra. She would not write in solemn tones, but with affection, humour, and gentle wisdom. A Christmas Reflection: A letter from Jane And so, in her spirit, I hear a letter like this: My dear friends, It is with much affection that I write to you, though time and circumstance place us far apart. I trust your hearth is warm, your company pleasant, and that you find in this season a measure of joy.

We often try to define resilience, but it remains elusive until life demands it of us. Resilience is not a single act of bravery but the slow gathering of strength over time — through courage, through mistakes, and yes, even through failures. Our falterings may be the very place where resilience begins to grow. In this way, resilience is closely akin to wisdom, shaped not in ease but in endurance.

Joy often hides in stillness. It is the hush between songs, the laughter that follows a pause, the way candlelight dances against a windowpane. In the busyness of December, joy waits patiently, asking only to be noticed. Third Candle - Joy Perhaps joy is not something we chase, but something that finds us when we stop running. It hums in the quiet of early morning, in the scent of pine, in the sparkle of frost upon the branches.

"All true Artists, whether they know it or not, create from a place of no-mind, from inner stillness." James Abbott NcNeill Whistler Whistler, James Abbott McNeill; Three Figures: Pink and Grey; Tate; (Public Domain via Wikimedia Commons) I'll be spending the weekend with James Abbott NcNeill Whistler and his painting Three Figures: Pink and Grey 1868 - 78. The original painting is hidden away in a vault at the…

“It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession of a good fortune, must be in want of a wife.” Jane austen, pride and prejudice As Christmas draws near, it feels right to turn to Jane Austen’s most beloved novel — Pride and Prejudice. First published in 1813, it is a story not only of romance but of wit.

A Christmas Carol (1867) by Dante Gabriel Rossetti (1828–1882) Some paintings seem to sing. In Rossetti’s A Christmas Carol, a young woman lifts her gaze heavenward as her fingers rest upon the strings of a simple instrument. The song she plays is silent to us, yet we can feel it. It is a melody of devotion, gratitude, and inward joy.