Walking through the living room last night, I noticed the stairwell reflection in the mirror. I liked the colors, so I took a photo to share with you. I could say that it was a dark and stormy night, but it wasn’t. It was quite nice.
SITTING ON THE floor of the living room this morning, camera in hand, nothing better to do at the moment, I took this shot, an angle I’d never considered before.
What inspired me was the absence of something, a vine from a hanging pot, something that had lived in that corner, dangling from a ceiling beam for over a decade, covering — due to supports — much of that brick archway in one direction and down to the carved-wood post in another.
Yesterday, weary of watering it every weekend, and often having to duck under it, I cut the whole shebang down. I wonder how long it will be before my wife notices. It’s funny how the absence of things can go unseen.
It’s much better now, a cleaner look.
About a week after we moved into the Hacienda in 2003, we invited a bunch of folks over for a housewarming fiesta. One invitee brought a friend, an architect, who was visiting from above the Rio Bravo. The architect took a look at that brick archway and said it would be very difficult to find anyone in the United States capable of constructing such a thing these days.
It was done by hand, using no power tools.
The carved wood base was hand done at a nearby village that focuses on such work. It was my wife’s idea, as was the archway separating the kitchen-dining room from the living room.
She has good ideas.*
* * * *
* The best of which was marrying me.
(Note: The potted, raggedy plant is visible in this old shot.)