wedding season is officially upon us and it seems I’m not 21 like I used to be. i’m in bed by 11 and up by 6. I’m building chuppas in my sleep.
in a desperate fog i take a yoga class and fall out a headstand. i eat cheese for dinner. in bed. then dream about making flowers for janet jackson’s wedding. leather roses. and she’s topless. whatev’s.
exhausted as i am, an undeniable beauty abounds in the bounty of the spring flower market…
searching for a topic to write about tonight, it strikes me to share with you some recent quince that i grabbed yesterday. quince rarely looks good…
usually i would not suggest or promise quince to an April bride. It’s late for quince, and by the last weeks of April dogwood and Cherry are usually out-shining Quince (a flowering branch that normally graces the market in late winter). But fate had it that some unusually gorgeous Quince found it’s way into my hands this week. Quince with flowers and leaves. Quince to make doves cry.
I grabbed this bale yesterday just as it was being unloaded off the truck. I cradled it all the way home to Brooklyn. I thought of our short future together. Laughing, making plans…and then, our wedding. But there was no wedding for this quince. (this week’s events happen in shades of red and purple.) a chilly wind blew through the workshop and i sat down alone with all this quince and considered a sudden shotgun wedding. for my dog.
but my dog seems uninterested, so instead i make a few selfish arrangements and lock up for the night. i share them with you here.