Just add feathers

Going over some of last week's pictures before bed, I found this one and decided that late was better, etc.

The basket hangs on the kitchen wall at Holly Hill. It's by Ken Dalton, collected in museums around the country, chosen to represent American crafts at Euro Disney in 1994 and based at Tennessee's own Coker Creek Gallery before he and his wife, Kathleen, sold it. It's a classic split white oak egg basket, and the handle begs for a hand.

Just as exquisite, the nest -- of pine straw, leaves, twigs, moss -- is from a pot on Holly Hill's breezeway. Once the birds hatched and flew away, I transferred it to the basket.

The tiny eggs are leftovers from barn swallows on the veranda.

The feather is from my friend Lou, who tried to send me a picture of the odd bird it came from, at her new place in California. The picture didn't come through, but the feather was waiting for me in a little envelope, so it became a grace note to the basket, nest and eggs.

Emily Dickinson wrote this:

Hope is the thing with feathers
That perches in the soul,
And sings the tune--without the words,
And never stops at all