It appears early, when the days are still deciding whether to be winter or spring. Small, unassuming, yet impossibly precise in its beauty. Petals in shades of violet, blue, and buttercream seem painted by a hand that has practiced for centuries.
Violas flourish in the cool and gentle days of spring and fall, basking in full sun where it is soft and settling contentedly into partial shade when the season grows warm. They are profuse self-seeders, turning up in the most unexpected places, even pushing their way through the cracks in a cement path as if to remind you that elegance can be stubborn.
Gardeners prize them for their charm, poets for their symbolism, and children for their willingness to be picked and carried home in a pocket.
And the frame…
The flowers you have gathered, like the portraits, landscapes, and improbable finds before them, were never meant for just any frame.
This one curves inward like the opening line of a secret. Its champagne gilt catches light the way a Parisian café catches conversation, warm, deliberate, and impossible to ignore. Handsome in its proportions, it would be perfectly at home in a gentleman’s smoking room, where the air holds a balance between beauty and masculinity.
Not ostentatious, but quietly certain it belongs in rooms where people linger, where glances return again and again as if drawn by some unspoken promise.
Fantastic as a solitary piece, commanding the space it is given, and even better when it conspires with five of its companions, turning a wall into a gallery and a room into a conversation.
It appears early, when the days are still deciding whether to be winter or spring. Small, unassuming, yet impossibly precise in its beauty. Petals in shades of violet, blue, and buttercream seem painted by a hand that has practiced for centuries.
Violas flourish in the cool and gentle days of spring and fall, basking in full sun where it is soft and settling contentedly into partial shade when the season grows warm. They are profuse self-seeders, turning up in the most unexpected places, even pushing their way through the cracks in a cement path as if to remind you that elegance can be stubborn.
Gardeners prize them for their charm, poets for their symbolism, and children for their willingness to be picked and carried home in a pocket.
And the frame…
The flowers you have gathered, like the portraits, landscapes, and improbable finds before them, were never meant for just any frame.
This one curves inward like the opening line of a secret. Its champagne gilt catches light the way a Parisian café catches conversation, warm, deliberate, and impossible to ignore. Handsome in its proportions, it would be perfectly at home in a gentleman’s smoking room, where the air holds a balance between beauty and masculinity.
Not ostentatious, but quietly certain it belongs in rooms where people linger, where glances return again and again as if drawn by some unspoken promise.
Fantastic as a solitary piece, commanding the space it is given, and even better when it conspires with five of its companions, turning a wall into a gallery and a room into a conversation.
13 1/4” x 16 1/2” x 1 1/2”
