A Hostess to Herself

Shall we climb these steps to visit a house I love?

Our hostess, Mrs. Harold M. Bixby, is a darling and will welcome us as graciously as she did Anne Morrow Lindbergh in the 1920s when she was a guest there, as described in her heartbreaking Hour of Gold, Hour of Lead. 

"A rather small low house, low ceilings...

and French windows...opening out onto a dark cool garden.

Inside, lovely prints on the wall...bright zinnias in a vase...

upstairs, an old four-poster bed...

and some fine rag rugs,

and very dainty bathroom things...

Mrs. Bixby is quite striking-looking--

young and assured and calm with the assurance of a woman who is happily married,

has a lovely home, children, old enough (herself) to be settled

and young enough to be very nice-looking,

and who has enough time to take on the side university courses on Goethe, etc....

and to pick zinnias!

She is a kind of hostess to herself."

Anne Morrow Lindbergh in Hour of Gold, Hour of Lead

I would adore being a weekend houseguest at Mrs. Bixby's. Always a lover of low rambling houses, I'd carry my overnight bag inside and make my way upstairs to the bedroom with the four-poster bed. After brushing my teeth at bedtime and washing my face, I'd pad my way back into the bedroom across the old soft rag rug and climb into bed.

The next morning I would join Mrs. Bixby and her handsome children at breakfast. Mr. Bixby left early to attend a meeting at the bank. The maid would bring in our half grapefruits first and then soft-boiled eggs in egg cups of Spode's Chinese Rose. Plates of crisp buttered toast would be set at each end of the table.

Mrs. Bixby asks me if I'd like to play tennis with the youngsters after breakfast or curl up at one end of the sofa in her morning room while she takes the other end to read a book she wants to finish this weekend.

I say I'll keep her company. She smiles and says that a few friends will join us later for luncheon on the terrace.

Mr. Bixby should be home by then if not delayed. In any case, he will be here to squire us to the dinner and dance at the country club tonight, and my escort will be here for drinks beforehand. Do I need the maid to press my frock for tonight?

Please don't wake me if I'm dreaming. I'm just playing at being a hostess to myself, like Mrs. Bixby.

Oh, and my escort for the country club dance?

Do tell, how do you play hostess to yourself? Or host, if you're one of my few gentlemen readers?

Unleash your imagination!

Picture credits:

Some of these pictures were from my collection of vintage Woman's Home Companion magazines, others were on Pinterest from tumbir.com. The pretty vanity mirror belongs to Sissie at 

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The "Zinnias in Vase" was by American artist Jane Peterson 1876-1965. And the table setting with Spode's Chinese Rose has Between Naps On the Porch watermarked on the picture from Pinterest but would not link back to her post. I only have three plates of Chinese Rose so used this lovely picture.

I could not find a picture of the real Mrs. Bixby. I did find one of her husband and he was very distinguished and debonaire but the photo was poor. He was part of the original Spirit of St. Louis team.