Something about snow. It makes you notice even the subtle colors.
Red came first and grabbed my attention (nothing subtle about red). Oh winterberry. In one week I’ve seen you dripping with raindrops, twinkling in sunbeams, and powdered with snow crystals.
Then Friday I laid eyes on the satsuma mandarin oranges at my local market. I’m not one to resist an orange with leaves on the stem. It’s so rare to see them. They are a painter’s fantasy. A photographer’s joy. And any eater of citrus is happy to peel away all those tender skins and let the juice run down their chin.
In a few days I’ll indulge the eater. For now I’m still happy to see those oranges in that favorite white bowl. They are their own little Christmas packages.
The narcissus emerge from their fragile paper husks. We have a love/hate relationship with their scent in this house. But still, I have to plant them.
I found three little porcelain birds at a flea market near Montreal this summer. Two are perched in the branches of the tree. The third is living in the moss garden on the table. More green—earthy, tactile green.
Red, mercury-glass silver, and pale blue. Makes me think of Cath Kidston textiles and parlors in English cottages.