Fallifying the front porch with fairy tale pumpkins and mums.
And farmers' market flowers on my dining room table.
That the special room is all junked up again.
I go through these phases where it's all clean. And I can leave the door open. And people can see it.
Then we have company or something.
And I use it to hide piles of laundry. Or my hoarded thrifted finds that haven't quite made it to the booth yet.
I'm so ashamed.