SALTING AWAY

The cure for anything is salt water:  Sweat, tears, or the sea.

                  Isak Dinesen

Thank you to all of you who have asked about a “REVEAL” of our new kitchen; it’s nice to know you’re interested.   I have no idea why I’m taking so long---I DO find myself lingering over the simplest tasks, with the spray-and-wipe of those pristine white counters taking on the significance of WAY more than sanitation.  I think all this slow contemplative enjoyment has slowed my entire outlook---not in a dreary way, or a don’t-look-forward way, but perhaps in a contentment with things just now, pushing off small want-tos for a little while.

I just tell myself I want the photos to be just right, or the angles, or what about those pink utensils that are in the dishwasher at the moment---wouldn’t it be best to wait for those for the pictures?  Or, you know---this vase of roses is several days old; might better wait for a new bouquet for best effect. 

The sun through these curtains with their silky pink roses and sharp green leaves is simply glorious, but eludes capture, somehow, with so much of the glow and the outline of the matching real leaves moving in the breeze outside escaping in the translucent haze of the gauzy cloth.

Caro has been collecting pink SALT for me---mostly for the effect, of course, and the salad-dressing-prep marble is now quite colourful, with all the lovely glints of pink.  Some of them I haven’t used yet, but I’m tempted to make a batch of dark chocolate truffles or some rich fudge, just for the sake of scattering a grain or two of that bright SEE-Salt atop---wouldn't that be pretty?

The time will come---I do not flatter myself that there’s a bated breath in the house, for it’s so totally inconsequential in the Scheme of Things. The asking is a lovely compliment, and it BRIGHTS me, as does this Sweet 'n' Low Pink kitchen, planned since I was six.   

Moiré non,