a little brown story

It's a slow, thick grey morning around here, one where I woke up thinking, this is a good morning for frothy in the coffee. I don't get to make it every day, because it's another step, but on studio days, I consider it a little treat.

When I was collecting and arranging these leaves yesterday {leaves seem to be a running theme for me this autumn and oh, one is cut paper} I remembered as a child everything I owned was brown. My mom made my curtains and bed pillows and they were brown, the bedspread, carpet and little sleeper sofa were all brown. Most of the furniture was made of wood, by my dad, and of course wood is brown. And since I have brown hair, I was always given dolls with the same. My sister is a blonde so when we'd watch Charlie's Angels, I would always have to "be" Jaclyn Smith or Kate Jackson, while my sister was Cheryl Ladd. I remember wishing for something other than brown. And now I wish I wouldn't wish for something other than what I have.

. . . . .

Have you seen Gretchen's beautiful print for The Working Proof?

Off for a sip more coffee,