A fleeting glance at my garden quickly reveals my interest in topiaries. Last spring, I purchased an olive tree to add to the mix. Its gray green leaves are lovely, and I’ve found them to be the perfect embellishment for gifts, or in this case, a table setting. Here, I’ve used some to accent a simple tablescape that includes a few vintage items- a set of earrings, curtain ring, damask napkin and scalloped white plate.
When I was a little girl, I would examine the people that occupied my church’s pews, trying to discern their stories from afar. I assumed their lives were much different than mine. Many lived in the Parish community, sharing assorted familial and cultural ties. I, on the other hand, was an outsider of sorts, hailing from another town, the offspring of a Catholic mother and Southern Baptist father. I always felt a sense of isolation in that faith community. But truthfully, I preferred my solitary position, because while I was terribly inquisitive, I was horribly shy.
My interest in “the other” remains today, but now, the strangers that capture my interest are often those I place amidst paper and text. This piece is a case in point. It features yet another nameless girl. I found her image and the torn book page among some family possessions. Her story is unknown to me, but I strain to hear it as I peer into her face.
Pins & Needles is currently in The Stars of Texas Juried Art Exhibit. Prior to the judging process, I saw a young woman stop and examine it. Then she motioned to a friend, indicating they should look at it as well. I wonder what she thought . . . what she saw. Were her impressions of the girl the same as mine or entirely different? I suspect the latter, because so often we imaginatively shape the stories we hear and intricately weave the stories we tell.
Have you ever found something in your house and wondered what it’s for and why you even have it? Such was the case with this cotton candle wrap. Well, it wasn’t a wrap when I found it. I just thought it might be. Only later, did my brilliant, good friend tell me (nonchalantly, of course) it was a rolling pin cover.
Although this cotton wrap could be embellished in a number of ways, I rather like its plain appearance. It reminds me of a soft cotton sweater. And since its winter, the perfect season for such apparel, and since the landscape is peppered with beautiful dried leaves, I paired the two together. I’ve used the same design on a tall glass bottle and vase. It’s an easy and inexpensive way to bring a bit of beauty into your home.
Postscript: By the way, if you’re interested in baking, instead of decorating, these covers work wonderfully, as intended, on a rolling pin.
As the mother of two boys, I’ve rarely utilized pink in my surroundings. The color was almost absent during my childhood as well. Growing up, I was neither delicate nor particularly feminine, two attributes I associate with the color, and the hue didn’t suit my forays into the woods. (This was before pink camouflage.) While I still don’t wear pink and rarely use it in my home furnishings, it seems to appear again and again in my floral selections.
After our small Epiphany gathering last weekend, I decided to pause and take a few photographs of the tulips I’d purchased for the evening. (I was thrilled to find small bouquets of inexpensive pink peonies and tulips at the grocery store during the holiday season.) This pic is one of my favorites. I think it pairs beautifully with this photo from Atlanta Bartlett’s At Home with White, another favorite of mine. The soft tones are so lovely.