And swirls.  Gilded geometric patterns.  Trees sprouting from the minds of men long gone. Welcome to the third *wall* post of the week.  It couldn’t be helped.

Like these forms, my husband & I have fallen into a pattern – not of shapes or colors, but of morning conferences.  Once the kids are off to school, we commune w/ the house & each other, laying out plans for the day (and ensuing days to come).  We were up in the attic an hour ago, when we came upon this cache of wallpaper.  Hidden beneath all that wood!  In the bottom of a cooper’s barrel.  We were searching for trim for the dining room.  The former owner – God bless him- was a collector, and saved every scrap we’d need.  They’re flaking, still w/ the hand forged nails of the Georgian period.  We’re not sure where each of them goes, but thankfully the peeling paint matches, and piece by piece the puzzle takes shape and the picture begins to emerge.