This is the beginning of the end of the dead-flower images. For now.

I grew up in a house full of “Early American” furniture, which featured really shiny maple pieces. My mom had a set of table pads that we put down over the kitchen table any time we used it, to protect that fancy finish.

It will not surprise you, probably, to know I took a different approach with my furniture. My own kitchen table is pine; it used to be waxed but that wore off decades ago. In the interim, it’s built up a lot of character, with scratches and marks and a variety of stains. Most of the stains fade over time, which is a moral lesson that I am too lazy right now to write about. The current most prominent stain is some turquoise fountain pen ink that got away from me. It’s already being absorbed into the wood, and on its way to becoming a forgotten thing that happened.

Lubbock, Texas
photographed 5.23.2025