Show Me The Treasure

I know I took this photo, it's the falling snow, the way it has snuck in and just keeps drifting down, like a snowdome that never needs shaking that makes me wonder. Like the milk playing rain in the puddles and dance scene in Singing in The Rain, this seems like a kind a trick.  A variety of

Three shadow rabbits, one shadow grandma, heads only, and a fine Japanese bowl, the world writ small. The bowl, by way of Kyoto, is reminiscent of the brilliantly graphical lines of Keith Murray's designs for Wedgwood from the '30's and onwards. Murray, New Zealand's exemplar designer.  Murray's keen sense of form, his elegantly stylised geometry, might or might

Lunch, daily but ephemeral, is often the forgettable meal, a mid-way refuelling, a matter of fact calorificaton of self. But here we see the  end of a long lunch, long on table and long on time, slipping gracefully into the past tense, the afternoon light a soft apricot that adds some length to the perspective and a grainy

Why would an ordinary bowl with its strange plate chapeau evoke a sense of the great French still life painter Louise Moillon (1610-1696)? Thinking back recollected an intermediary, a fine white china bowl, shallow, handles broken off and lid long gone, itself now the same, that was a favourite place for cherries, which in their turn evoked those

Last week the Pepper tree, probably Schinus spp, tree in Edwards Bay Park found itself footnoted by yellowish mushrooms. Why this tree I wonder instead of the local angophoras?  The whole fungi thing is intriguing, the idea of their labyrinthine subterranean habits, the back seat drivers of the plant world as it were, to borrow from  Sylvia Plath's