Seeing the seasons laid out on the table is an interesting way to chronicle the year. The soft winter whites give way to the pastels of spring. My crisp summer tables have a pop of color which carries into fall. And then all is repeated over again.
It's been a satisfying year of gatherings and departures. Of celebrations and commemorations. All laid out and then put away again in a sort of ceremonial ritual which brings a comfort all its own.
Table people are a breed apart. Hardly anyone fusses this way anymore. It's become its own thing, and is now almost all about the beauty of the object. The heft of a fork, or the hand of a linen napkin. No one in their right mind irons a tablecloth these days.
But the art of the table, like any other art, is about self expression and taking joy. Interpreting events through combinations of glass and china, or a bit of cloth and silver. A way of making sense of the days. Of keeping order.
If that's too philosophical and heavy-handed, you can always say that it's just fun. And a lot of it, if it's your thing. . . .
Happy tablescaping in the New Year!
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