As I write this, there's a torrential downpour just outside my window. Which is, I should mention, an enormous picture window in the third story of a circa-1900 office building. I have an excellent view of downtown Asheville, including a gloriously gaudy art deco cafeteria and, beyond that, the blue-patina copper on two church steeples. I can also see the ankle-deep water running riot down the streets, and people scurrying helplessly from the onslaught. Which, of course, led me to think of umbrellas.
Image from unebricoleuse.blogspot.com
I always have an umbrella in my over-sized bag, though it's nothing particularly charming or fashionable. It gets me to work and back relatively dry and it's black so it goes with everything. But (like most things) there used to be an artistry to umbrellas — back before they were $9 items to be picked up at Walgreens and buried in a purse. This image is from the delightful Some Girls Wander By Mistake blog by Ms. Emily Winfield, who not only has charming things to say about life and an exquisite eye for design, but is also a fabulous artist:
And finally (as the clouds part a bit, even as the thunder continues to rumble and lightning sparks the sky) a brass band tires of waiting out the storm and a shrill trumpet blares beneath my window. A bit of bold color on a dark May afternoon:
Image from theglamourai.com
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