The day wild with sunshine: a line which I believe comes from Margaret Wise Brown's The Color Kittens, a Little Golden Book I remember from childhood, and read and read and read with my own children.
Anyway, that is what this morning is like. Those of us who did not sleep in an extra hour are enjoying an extra sunlit waking hour before time to leave for Mass.
Posing today in what we sort of erroneously call "the sunroom." It's really just the smaller side of a standard 1920s "double parlor," but on the south side of the house, with full windows front and side, it does get marvelous light, especially in the mornings. I've always kept bottles on the southeast-facing window to catch the sun. Anyway, it's not technically a sunroom, but we call it that anyway, for reasons that should be obvious.
I find selfies a lot less painful if I'm not looking at the camera. Here I'm wearing my Wool& charcoal-gray Sierra, last night's thrifted gray Athleta drape cardigan, mostly because there it was where I'd shrugged it off last night onto the drying rack in the bathroom, Snag merino tights in "Silver Lining," and my camel boots, also a repeat from last night. Going for a monochrome layered look today, gray on gray.
I like the muted feel of this color scheme, with the subtle pop that the boots provide. Layered silver necklaces, half-updo hair, little hoop earrings my younger daughter gave me for Mother's Day a couple of years ago, with resin drops in which tiny heather blooms are encased:
I really don't remember to wear these earrings often enough. They're so pretty and delicate, and I love them. I think the very subtle purple touch works really well with a muted gray color scheme.
Here's a bonus arty shot of one of my prized possessions: a photograph on glass of my older son, taken when he was a student at VMI as part of a project for a writing class. His professor is also a photographer and numbers many photographers among his acquaintance; one of them specializes in this nineteenth-century technique. The professor sent all the students in that class to have their photographs done by this friend, then use the resulting images as basis for some kind of prose work. I don't remember ever seeing the written part of this project, but my son gave me the photograph for my birthday that year. I always think of it as Portrait of the Artist as Tom Joad.
Here, in a very self-consciously meta move, I too appear in this photograph. It lives on the music rack on the piano, which doesn't get played much, obviously (as the tuning makes clear . . . I really really really need to call a tuner). My kids don't play –– the two who are musicians play stringed instruments, not piano. They do have friends who play it whenever they come over, but that's not so often now, so most of the time it's just a giant inaccurate pitch pipe that also holds stuff.
Ah, it sounds as though moves are being made toward getting ready for Mass. I should go read the readings and finish preparing myself interiorly, since on the outside I'm mostly ready to roll.