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Attributed to Suzuki Harunobu (1725–1770)
Quince Fruit and Japanese White-eye (Mejiro)
Edo period
Museum of Fine Arts, Boston
Via Violetta Dorata
Coming in October! A new series of my tales scattered within a beautiful journal, told by Reynard the Fox to his cubs. Foxes tumble into dyer’s vats, steal twists of eels from unsuspecting fisherman, lounge around Black Sea ports & are transformed into eternal & glittering stars.
The Broker had been struggling with his novel. It felt like a dead weight. As though his voice had been buried & staked a long, long time ago. The Newcomer told him his currency must now be words, but not the words of Threadneedle Street, of Onslow Square. But of sky & settle.
Babcia had taken the 9.15 bus to Dorchester to buy a new kettle – Wolf had forgotten about his tea the night before, and burnt the bottom out of Old Fox’s copper grandling. How bright the world on St David’s morning! Daffodils sudden on the banks; gulls stilling in the fields.
Mouse blew out her candle. The moon was high over the fields. She didn’t feel ashamed or guilty but quite the opposite. At peace. Old Fox had made her feel proud of herself & her courage, & had told her what a honour it was to help, how grateful he was for her confidence in him.
For the first stirrings of spring - a green and celandine chiffon day dress from 1929.
Wolf & the Doctor had walked up to Hill Top Farm, where the air was cold & the gorse grew thick. They're grateful, the gone ones, said Wolf. They know you did your best, bettered their going. The Doctor couldn't find any words & just watched the crows homing in the fields below.
For #Caturday, a bouquet of Inagaki Tomoo’s (稲垣知雄) cats from the 1960s and 1970s.