Sometimes in October I pick bittersweet from my garden and shove it into a closet to dry and forget about it for half a year, like a lot of other things. Bittersweet dries beautifully, so when I discovered it three weeks ago all I could think about was wrestling together a gorgeous wreath, but unfortunately dried bittersweet doesn’t bend properly, so I cried a little, scrapped that project, said “fuck it” and made pain au chocolat in my nightgown instead.
I have a lot of projects. They usually involve excited destruction of something in a tunnel-visioned frenzy, asking Pepito to repair it, realizing that he’s already ruined part of the château and then vowing never to ask for help again. So much easier to take matters into my own hands. Do you remember this? Of course you do.
Today, while I was meandering my orange groves I found a slab of wood that’s been lying in the sun for centuries, so I thought about it for a minute, and then welded on three-inch square iron legs. I know how to do that and have metal lying around. Boom. Furniture. But, furniture needs jewelry. Some objets de charme. Obviously, I rushed over to L’Isle sur la Sorgue, scooped up three antique candle pedestals, a few first editions and bell jars (totally charmant). Full disclosure: that wreath I made a few years ago, when I had some spare time on my hands. LOVE.
What do you think, mes fleurs?