Author Archive: Lesley Jakobsen
Purple Wednesday
Welcome to the third edition of my blog, Annabel Lee. What colour is Wednesday? You may be surprised to learn that it is purple. Quite obviously that means evening bags. So, in honour of Wednesday, here are a couple which I prepared earlier…. Many of the beads in this first little one are Swarovski crystal, one of my favourite things. The medium dark filling in the lace sections in the lower part are comprised of precisely 1,267,098 French knots. This second bag is a lovely soft bouncy embossed velvet netted beaded beribboned thingie. The Tarot card which I have chosen for today…
Continue Reading →I See Red
Hello again and welcome to the second edition of Lesley’s blog, “Annabel Lee”. The Tarot card which I have chosen for today is the Two of Batons, a card of movement, of course, being a baton. It refers to a project which has commenced, but which requires further work. Shuffling and concentration brought forth the Queen of Swords. Fittingly, Her Majesty points to the uncovering of a new path and finding satisfaction in what you do, while an idea develops. So, today is a day of consolidating your work to date and waiting for the next step to be revealed to you. But do beware! …
Continue Reading →Annabel Lee, Miranda & Stevie
Annabel Lee, Miranda, Stevie, and Lesley (image by Stephen Reid)
Greetings and a warm welcome to Lesley’s blog, the part of The Varnished Culture which is girly, crafty and sort of ethereal. Our muses are Stevie Nicks, Joyce Carol Oates and Lily Cole. Our poem is “Annabel Lee” – a poem by Edgar Allen Poe – Stevie does an otherwordly,
Continue Reading →Annabel Lee
Annabel Lee (Edgar Allen Poe) It was many and many a year ago, In a kingdom by the sea, That a maiden there lived whom you may know By the name of Annabel Lee; And this maiden she lived with no other thought Than to love and be loved by me. I was a child and she was a child, In this kingdom by the sea, But we loved with a love that was more than love – I and my Annabel Lee – With a love that the winged seraphs of heaven Coveted her and me. And this…
Continue Reading →The Silent Partner
When Dennis Sheldon lifted his head from his desk on Monday morning, he had already been dead for some hours. While working on Sunday afternoon in the dim electric hum of the otherwise empty office he had begun to feel queasy, had felt the half-expected chest pain, had seen the traditional bright light and had fallen forward, denting his now senseless forehead on the corner of his Italian marble desk-set. The desk-set had been a gift from his father.
Continue Reading →