Paris Rooftops in Snow Blair Pessemier Oil on linen 18 x 14 inches
Two Squares Blair Pessemier Oil on linen 24 x 19.5 inches
Burr Pond: Birch Laurie Fox Pessemier Acyrlic on linen 11 x 14 inches
Working: across the street Laurie Fox Pessemier Acyrlic on lnen 14.5 x 8.5 inches
Walk: Harwinton CT Laurie Fox Pessemier Acrylic on wood 13 x 7.5 inches
ARTNOTES: the Holidays
We bought a Christmas tree. I guess that seals the deal: Christmas in Paris. The price of trees varies greatly here. We could buy one for 80 euros at Monceau Fleurs, a discount flower house, or for 24 euros at the Franprix grocery store. We jumped on the tree from the grocery: their big trees are all snapped up the first week.
Ours is a five-footer, approximately. The base of the tree is fixed inside a half-sawn log base, which is customary here. Our house is not very warm, so I think we’ll be ok without it drying out until the big day. I have decorated it with all my jewelry, connecting necklace to necklace beads, resulting in a sparkly garland. Our Rhymo monkey puppet is the angel on top, and all of our interesting stuff, from playing cards to model cars, single earrings and Bakelite figurines adorn the rest.
I decorated my father’s apartment in Connecticut last weekend – I made a quick trip for the Thanksgiving holiday to visit my family there. I flew Air Canada through Montreal to Hartford, Connecticut. Connecticut is always a good Thanksgiving place, so New-England-first-Thanksgiving feeling. Cranberries seem just right, as does pumpkin pie. Wild turkeys abound, but we always have a good store-bought variety. I bought oysters, this year imported from the West Coast, since the local Atlantic oyster beds were overturned by Storm Sandy. I was ensconced in family, as I didn’t even rent a car.
We took a walk in the winter woods in Harwinton, where my sister and family live. We hiked through the landscape, monochromatic save for a few hunting vests on men who seemed to have an Eastern European accent. “Have you seen the bear?” they inquired. We chose not to walk that direction. They had a brace of hunting hounds with them, who crept stealthily through the forest until the shots were fired. Then a chorus of howls and yips ensued, as they brought back their quarry of birds.
A half dozen girls riding American quarterhorses passed us on the uphill path. The horses blew smoke in the just freezing temperatures, as seen on the thin skin of ice on the pond. We finished our Thanksgiving foray amidst flakes of snow.