As I am off this week, I’m republishing some Saturday posts. I know it’s not the weekend, bear with me.
There’s nothing better than light in the morning. Just now some camellia leaves outside my window are shining so brightly they throw the folds of this sofa cushion into high relief. I can even see the nap of faux suede, in ridges like sand blown by wind across dunes. There must be dew on the shrubbery.
The light’s going to fade in a minute. Yes, the camellia has gone green again. The sofa cushion reverts to upholstery. The coffee table shines instead, briefly. I got it at Pottery Barn.
This is how to feel time. Every little increment shining. Each regular thing lit in turn. Now the dust on that same window turns platinum, almost white, and the camellia bushes throw spiky shadows on the glass. I’m expecting the pile of laundry on the long low basket drawers to light up next. Maybe my leopardskin tee shirt. Maybe the baby blue towels. We don’t always get to choose what illuminates. Nor, really, would we want to.
Have a wonderful weekend.