A Cupboard That I Can't Explain

In my living room stands a black walnut cupboard.

Someone in my husband's family built it generations ago. 

I love it.

Years ago, I filled it up with coconut bowls from Vietnam and a collection of driftwood from Kalaloch Beach. 

I know. The bowls are fine but the driftwood's a little weird.

What can I say. I'm crazy for these bits and bobs of once-towering trees, broken and tossed and polished smooth by the most powerful ocean on the planet, then tossed up on my beloved beach.. 

I love them. 

So far, so good.

Still, this presentation has been lacking a little something. A plant was the obvious answer; a splash of green to ignite the natural tones of brown. 

I searched for a long time for my dream pot and the perfect plant. 

Then I got bored with searching and just forgot about it for awhile. 

Sometimes that is the best way to find a solution. Stop looking and let the solution find you. 

 Last weekend at Molbaks, this white-footed planter found me. 

I dig the hand-thrown vibes, the wobbly lines, the groovy pedestal. It reads very 1970 to me and I love the tension it creates with the straight, somber style of the antique cupboard.

And the ivy was a Christmas gift from my fourth-born. She gave me the plant last winter, and said that we could pick out a perfect pot later on. Truer words were never spoken. 

What can I say. I know that this whole configuration is a little wonky. Why I stuffed a family heirloom full of beach debris and coconut art, I can't explain. And why I feel so satisfied with this out of tune planter mystifies me.

But I don't care.

I love everything just the way it is. 

And Gracie apparently loves it too.