My living room walls are a cross between burgundy and red .. .. a color Waverly dubbed chilled wine. The trim carries the name Wagon Wheel, though I am not sure why, because instead of the weathered wood you would imagine, it is more like a buttery tan.
We recently purchased new furniture which meant everything that was not donated or otherwise disposed of had to be rearranged. I have discovered, a interior decorator I am not, and Charles' abilities are limited to correcting what he calls my "crooked eye."
We both agreed, however that the floor lamp that erased darkness as Ireturned home evenings was best suited for our newly vacant corner by the window.
The most desirable feature of the lamp up until now was the fact that it was on clearance for under $20, blended with the walls, and came with two smaller versions in different sizes.
Recently I found myself too lazy to cover the distance from my sofa to the wall switch. We had been out with our cameras, and I was anxious to pop the card into my laptop which was within arm's length.
Suddenly, the glow of bulb and frosted shade captured my attention. I never realized what comfort it lent. Wine bathed in frosted, muted white shining upward and bouncing back off the white ceiling. Through the textured glass of the window light the street light mirrored the bath. My Canon was being summoned.
Simplicity, yes. Insignificant to some, understandable.
After all, I have just now found it worth mention.
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