Antidote

Some days everything is grey. Grey outside, where the rain and the wind and the cold are doing their best to prove March wrong. Grey inside, where sleeplessness and work worries have all but obliterated any creativity or joy. Grey in between, too.

On days like this, I like to spend time in my kitchen. There, among the left-overs of unfinished meals, behind the piled-up dishes and under the unpacked groceries, always, I find hidden treasures. Little bits of light. Little bits of beauty.

The adorable little chinese teacup, part of an adorable little chinese teaset that Marc bought for me last week. My husband actually buys me delicate chinese teasets... I don't have to tell you what that thought is worth on a grey grey day...


An antique French bowl filled with Kumquats (I seem to remember I still owe you a post about those...)


The cow and the chicken. I love the cow and the chicken.


And there, right between the sink and a dirty plate, an amazing find, on a piece torn from the shopping list (and you know how hard it is to tear anything off a shopping list, so I must have been truly inspired), a vision, a stroke of genius, a plan that once implemented will solve all at once the problem of Marc's exuberant population of lonely socks and my fabric budget issues...


See, I told you, my kitchen always has the antidote.