happy christmas day

snow-treehuggers by the sweetest fiona.

wishlist

1. cupcakes
2. a microscope
3. a telescope
4. a camera obscura
5. a cabinet of inks
6. a beehive
7. a roomful of clocks
8. a memory theatre
9. a set of epiphanies
10. painting lessons
11. a shadow lantern
12. a holga
13. an enormous umbrella
14. a pet tiger


strange, in this picture of my father an i, must be 1968, i only just noticed that the tree isn't decorated. maybe we were about to trim it when the picture was taken, presumably by my mother, who would be jumping ship in a matter of months.

in "the grand hotels," a short story inspired by the works of joseph cornell, robert coover wrote: "childhood is the source and model of all architecture." that line struck me especially, mostly because i have also believed it for some time. this photograph tells me something about why i am hesitant to put holes in the wall in order to hang things up, why it's taken me so long to get down the basics of inhabiting a space. why i am attracted to the lightest objects, why i'm never dressed warmly enough. why i love things that fold up, and words so weighty they seem to almost stand in for the real thing. words like

curator, frock, grandeur, trapeze.

bellhop, scaffold, winter, and shy.

save a tree with furoshiki

a green set of holiday gift wrap options from the japanese government.

thanks to make for the link.

behold our little tree

every year for about six or seven years now we bring it in from outside and lavish it with festoonery. it's always been somewhat dr. seuss-ish, but it gets a little more so each year.










and now for some close-ups: