Found the above cement planter at a thrift store. Weighs a ton, and love the shape. I painted it the color that Harleigh and I used for her dresser (that accompanied her to Statesboro for college living) and dressed it up with bad fake flowers, my newest obsession. They remind me of my grandmother's rowhouse in Baltimore, the way an arrangement (back then mostly plastic) would take center stage on a front porch or a side table. They remind me of memorial parks, where each gaudy but happy arrangement is lovingly placed by family. They're often in restaurants thinly veiled in dust, but an attempt nonetheless to bring elegance to a tabletop. Their colors are way beyond what you see in nature. They live indefinitely. What can I say . . . they make me smile somehow.
"Our house was not unsentient matter — it had a heart and a soul, and eyes to see with; and approvals and solicitudes and deep sympathies; it was of us, and we were in its confidence and lived in its grace and in the peace of its benedictions. We never came home from an absence that its face did not light up and speak out in eloquent welcome — and we could not enter it unmoved."- Samuel Clemens
I am probably the most content person you'd ever want to meet. I have a decent job working with people I like, a loving family including a swell Old English Sheepdog, a home where nesting and curling up on slipcovered sofas is required, and a life rich in creative crafting and daydreaming. I someday want a cottage at the beach where my grandchildren can bring sandy feet into the house, wet bathing suits can dry on the front porch and everything we need to get to is a bicycle ride away.