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A jar with a label that says: Orange Leaves.
Packaging then. Simple daily elegance. Taking time and pleasure in the ordinary. Last week on the French Muse we saw such wonderful antiques, various things, simple to grand, furniture, smalls, books, linens, paintings, garden wares… I never grow tired of it, you know that. It is an addiction called the Brocante Bug.
There was a time when a crown and or a fleur de lis could only be used for royalty. So when finding a piece of that period of time (be it a painting, a vase, linen, paper, forged iron back for a fireplace…) that has a crown or a fleur de lis means it came from royalty and survived the revolution (where so many royal members, places, things were destroyed.).
At the brocante, with the French Muse last week I saw this basket full of hand-cut iron leaves. These were used in making eternal wreaths for grave ornamentation.
From the car window, as we drove by, one of many hillside perched villages Cadenet which is between Aix and Lourmarin.
A bouquet of olive branches hanging on a front door in Lourmarin.
What I enjoy about the French Muse are the people we bring together, especially when we visiting private homes. The homes are not grandiose, nor all neat and tidy, instead they are works of love and art. A natural gathering of spirit and happiness. The photo above was taken in a home in Beaume de Venise the artists who lived there collect ethnic textiles, their collect was vast. As much as I found it incredible it was the two homemade desserts that wowed me. Imagine that; making desserts for strangers that became friends.
They say ivy-covered walls or houses is not a good thing. Darn.
Ivy was growing on our house wall and I was thrilled…
Look at this house… it just says happy to me.
A weathered top table that reminded me of what my mom loves. Which reminded me of home. Which made me smile. I thought the top of this table would make an interesting piece of wall art. I thought about in Cassis… but there isn't room. Pieces can define an entire room or house.
It never occurred to me to buy it for the garden as a table.
Five Euros for a hydrangea bloom, verses fifteen Euros in Paris.
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Cheryl has surgery tomorrow. Please keep her in your prayers.
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