We each choose what's important, where we'll put our watchful eye and imagination. I've watched a friend sew on her children's name tags with stitches feather fine. And know another who reads beautifully illustrated hardbound copies of children's classics to her son at bedtime, convinced that the gold-lettered cover and creamy pages are part of the story.

Those who make the extra effort may sometimes wonder if it's worthwhile, especially on a day when no one seems to notice that the bread is freshly made, even though the house is full of the scent of its rising. But then, she has only to search her heart and remember what she cherishes of her own childhood, the territory where the memories lie: the way the crystal pitcher made a rainbow of light when the table was set, perhaps, the starched curtains that blew in the window, or the cinnamon toast mother cut into butterflies. These are the epiphanies that lie beneath the surface of the rush through life at home, the "grace of the quotidian" as author Susannah Lessard puts it-grace unsought, and caught forever, a landscape of unassuming beauty where a woman's touch has smoothed the way.

Victoria

I truly hope that the new publication of Victoria will be able to live up to the high standard and vision Nancy Lindemeyer had. Our daughters would greatly benefit from beauty such as this.