Something about a falling apple and a tree…

I loved my mom’s decorating style, probably because her touch signified “home” for me. She loved antique (or antique-looking) pieces with scrolling metalwork, rich wood, and rustic colors.

Beyond her basic style, she did have her quirks. For one, she would buy antique-esque picture frames. She would choose them not according to how well she thought they would work in the space, but by how much she liked the sepia, Victorian-era sample picture. You see, the majority of our picture frames at home did not have personal pictures in them. No joke.

I mean, they looked nice, they just weren’t of us! (But then, maybe that’s why they looked nice!)

Last week, I bought a blue frame to hang in the half-bath downstairs. There was nothing extraordinary about the 5×7 frame, just an inexpensive, glossy, deep cerulean blue frame. I thought that one of our pictures from Miami Beach’s art deco district would work nicely with the print of Jill Martin’s Continuum hanging in that room.

I am an “on demand” type of person when it comes to buying prints of my digital photos. I need to have a reason (and a place to put the photo) before ordering. I also prefer my photos in matte finish. The provider I use gives me the option to pick up my prints at a participating location in an hour, but only for glossy prints. All of this means that I need to wait a week between when I decide that I want a print and when the delivery person leaves the photo folder in my mail (because I’m cheap when it comes to shipping).

Meanwhile, the frame sat empty, save the store sample image, in the bathroom this week.

Just before going out for a walk together on Tuesday, my cousin stepped in the bathroom. She called out while the door was closed, “Do you remember how your mom used to buy frames and not change out the pictures they came with?”

Unsure where this was going, I responded “Yeah…?”

“Well, I think you’ve missed the point.”

Everybody’s a critic…