Stella and Nell on an overnight in Rye
You will not believe where Nell and I have been invited for an overnight. A beautiful mountain home, nestled in the pines with a majestic view spanning the open prairie that rolls and dips nonstop to Kansas. I sit back kick back and listen to the Rufus sided hummingbirds play their bombardier game of tag with each other as they vie for position at the feeder. The house... and this is just no simple summer cabin... is decorated in a stunning scheme of French country .... but good French country... trust me, the word tacky stops at the front gate around here. The rough hewn cabinet with its battle rust finish rests gracefully next to the massive stone fireplace. Overstuffed couches covered in a pattern of giant blooming peonies are an open invitation to step into this garden of abundance, to sleep, to dream. Spotted throughout are dried rich flower assortments arranged in perfect harmony to compliment their basket or vase... a fete which never ceases to capture my appreciation ... even though I make vases for a living, coordinating
the right flower arrangement to dance in suspended air over its vase is a skill that avoids me like growing Impatiences in full sun. Similar to the bathroom soap basket that rests on the back of the toilet in a guest bathroom. Balls of French lavender soap surrounded with sprigs of lavender and dried summer thyme ... all nestled in a chenille towel and topped with a soft lavender bow. This also embues me with awe ... inspires me to try and recreate this token of stylishly greeting, positioned perfectly for me and my pee. But my arrangements fall flat....the towel is older, the soap is cheaper and the lavender sprigs wilt. My arrangements give the impression I waste large amounts of time roaming the isles at Hobby Lobby. I’ve decided that any Martha Stewart gene I may have received scrambled to another rung on my helix ladder. It’s usually a matter of days before these banal endeavors get flushed away and we can all breath a sigh of relief at the extinguishing of yet another myth.
This kind of setting, inside and out, requires lots of money and is reason enough to play the lottery faithfully. F.Scott Fitzgerald: “The rich are different from us.”
Hemmingway: “yea, they have more money.”
But dispite all this affluence, this is a house of sadness because Juanita is leaning how to live here alone. The walls reverberate with a hollow emptiness and the choice to end a marriage resonates within my own being. With the exception of the fine fabrics, setting,atmosphere, and wine this reality could be mine ... what a sobering thought. Kind of like driving the Queen Mary solo. Dispite all the overwhelming challenges that come with Tomas, living in this world would not be trading up. So, it is good Nell and I came up here... a sigh of relief for finding yet another reason to sustain the myth.
the right flower arrangement to dance in suspended air over its vase is a skill that avoids me like growing Impatiences in full sun. Similar to the bathroom soap basket that rests on the back of the toilet in a guest bathroom. Balls of French lavender soap surrounded with sprigs of lavender and dried summer thyme ... all nestled in a chenille towel and topped with a soft lavender bow. This also embues me with awe ... inspires me to try and recreate this token of stylishly greeting, positioned perfectly for me and my pee. But my arrangements fall flat....the towel is older, the soap is cheaper and the lavender sprigs wilt. My arrangements give the impression I waste large amounts of time roaming the isles at Hobby Lobby. I’ve decided that any Martha Stewart gene I may have received scrambled to another rung on my helix ladder. It’s usually a matter of days before these banal endeavors get flushed away and we can all breath a sigh of relief at the extinguishing of yet another myth.
This kind of setting, inside and out, requires lots of money and is reason enough to play the lottery faithfully. F.Scott Fitzgerald: “The rich are different from us.”
Hemmingway: “yea, they have more money.”
But dispite all this affluence, this is a house of sadness because Juanita is leaning how to live here alone. The walls reverberate with a hollow emptiness and the choice to end a marriage resonates within my own being. With the exception of the fine fabrics, setting,atmosphere, and wine this reality could be mine ... what a sobering thought. Kind of like driving the Queen Mary solo. Dispite all the overwhelming challenges that come with Tomas, living in this world would not be trading up. So, it is good Nell and I came up here... a sigh of relief for finding yet another reason to sustain the myth.
posted by chapter three at 9:45 AM
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