While waiting for the muscat oolong tea to brew this morning, I stood at the stove and took note of the magnets and the messages they hold at eye level on the side of the fridge. An assortment typical of me.
The calendar page I sent to my mother and she kept on her own fridge for years, until I brought it back again:
“In walking, just walk. In sitting, just sit. Above all, don’t wobble.” (Yun-Men)
Keeping the page from wobbling, Matisse’s genteel onions.
A magnet from Sambo’s on the beach in Santa Barbara, a favorite place in college which two friends and I would visit after driving down the coast all night. I was surprised three years ago to learn it’s still there—the last of the Sambo’s line, surely, after the name and its namesake became un-PC.
The “traffic jam in Teesdale” magnet, showing a herd of amiable northern English sheep blocking the road. That from my summer doing archaeology (and visiting castles and Lindisfarne) up near Hadrian’s Wall, before discovering Yorkshire curd tarts.
John Lennon in a t-shirt with “New Mexico” slyly laid over it.
A postcard of a lovely blue-footed booby.
A magnet of one of Joseph Cornell’s parrots.
A magnet of the Venetian lion with wings and book.
Too many more to number or recount.
image: Henri Matisse, Still Life with Pink Onions