Home accessories: Weeds and Wild Things: A November Tablescape

I'd planned to eat lunch outside, but the weather turned blustery. As I set the kitchen table, I longed for a tall, lacy floral arrangement, but my old pottery rooster would have to do, unless I could find something in the yard. I put on a ratty sweater, grabbed a basket, and walked outside.

Leaning into the wind, I picked my way across the messy yard. It was a sunless day, and my garden looked like a battlefield--typical for this time of year. I turned in a circle, my boots shuffling through leaves, wondering if I had time to drive to Publix and buy hydrangeas. Or maybe I should keep looking. Surely I could find a branch with scarlet leaves or a bit of lavender, which was still blooming here and there.

One of my greatest joys is gardening, a hobby that I acquired late in life.

Last summer I declared a war on weeds. I worked relentlessly in the flower beds,

digging up thorny vines and clover.

Now it was late fall, and cold night-time temperatures had claimed my flowers,

but somehow the weeds had survived. They grew in untidy heaps, impervious to the wind, their tendrils curved, rising into the air like question marks.

What are you waiting for? they seemed to ask.

Suddenly, I was charmed by these survivors. I put them in my basket and hurried inside.

I've been cooking all week for a forest-themed Novel Baker project (coming November 17 with the girls: Home Is Where the Boat Is and ...a quiet life), and my pantry was overflowing with goodies.

I grabbed key limes, chestnuts, mushrooms. Five minutes later, my rooster was embellished with wild things. But it felt too calm, too structured.

This was not the time for restraint--I needed more wildness.

I went into the attic to find grapevine wreaths. In the past, I've used them as plate chargers.

The napkin rings have changeable designs--today I used bees. The bowls are from Pfaltzgraff's Pistoulet collection, designed by Jana Kolpen.

The white dishes are part of a set from American Atelier.

Trembly sunlight came out for an instant, then it was gone. Oh, it was lovely, one of those fleeting, unexpected joys that nature gives us. Soon we will be entering The Dark Season, when the days are short, reminding me of a skimpy meal that leaves us hungry. From December till March, I will crave sunlight as if it were a lemon tart. I will look in seed catalogs and dream about long, sunny days. But I will try not to complain about the icy temperatures or the raw-boned Tennessee hills. I will try to find the beauty in a stark, winter landscape.

Whether you're creating a tablescape or just trying to get through the day, whimsy is a vital ingredient. I was delighted when a sweet, little honey pot found its way to my kitchen.

So there you have it: A quick centerpiece, provided by Mother Nature.

However, it comes with a caveat: a weedy tabletop can drive men a little crazy--at least, my men are affected. Where are they supposed to put their elbows? Where are the mashed potatoes?
Why would someone put invasive vines on the table?

Because they're pretty.

Because they represent the last bit of summer.

Because when a killing frost arrived, they wouldn't give up.