Grab What You Love

This morning I gave some thought to what one thing I would grab if, heaven forbid, something disastrous were about to happen to my home. This would be after saving the most precious things to me . . . child, dog, myself, photos, pocketbook (for its contents only). I looked around at all the things I've collected and love. Everything in my surroundings has a meaning to me, a memory to it. Suffice it to say that I love my home because it is just that . . . it's more than a house, it's a retreat, a nest, a refuge, a "place in which my domestic affections are centered." So, where to begin with the idea of that one thing.

I love my collection of Peek Frean tins. And while there was a time that I was obsessed with miniature chairs (and have grown quite a collection), I'm actually thinking the time has come to rotate them out of the house and into the attic. My gathered and displayed shells are full of memories. The graceful and arching orchids that grow so wonderfully in my foyer, with the perfect light, are definite sources of happiness to me. But the winner is . . .

my Carl Bray painting. Back when I was married and we were living in California, a stone's throw from the sand and pier of Huntington Beach, we often vacationed (and then-husband had business) in Palm Desert. I never much liked the beaches of Southern California — much more a Florida Gulf Coast kinda gal — but the deserts of California made be dizzy with their beauty. On each visit there I would see, in galleries or hotel lobbies, these beautiful paintings done by a local artist named Carl Bray. Way out of my price range, and certainly not affordable considering our financial status at the time, but I vowed to own one someday.

Back in 1999, starting a new life with my daughter in a new home, back on my feet financially and emotionally, I searched ebay for his paintings. Again, most were not affordable, but I didn't give up. Then came the posting I had been waiting for. A small Carl Bray painting (most of his work is on a large scale) with colors that couldn't have been more suited to my personal palette. And at a price I could not only afford . . . it was a bargain. Opening the box when it was delivered to me was almost ethereal. The painting represented me finally making it, healing from a bad marriage, holding onto a dream, finding beauty in a place in my life that had been so ugly and sad. I could feel the desert heat again that I had loved. I could see the smoke trees, mountains, and the fields of wind turbines. I wish I could tell Mr. Bray just how much this little painting means to me. It hangs above my fireplace mantel, and my parents got me a gallery light to showcase it.

While I don't know that I can afford or find another affordable second Carl Bray, I have found other desert paintings to add to the collection. Here is one in my bathroom.