All week long the Berber carpets have been flying around the house seeking new ground.
Like Middle Atlas nomads, all four blew in from Morocco with the first snow flurries. They arrived rolled up tight, like the world’s fattest sausage, with thick paper passports stamped: “Security. Explosive Dog.”
And here I thought they were just trailing stardust.
Wanderers at heart, tonight they’ve chosen unexpected places to alight. Already they’re casting spells against the darkness outside.
May the powers of goodness and loving kindness protect us all in 2010.
Do you want to see more rugs? Read on…
The Boujaad was meant for the library, but no, it slid into the dining room where it came to ground under the old French walnut table. Now its sunset colors–red, orange and black with touches of grey—are vibrating harmonically with the deep apricot walls. Its furry, almost silken pile is begging me to settle on the floor with a plate of tangerines….
This shaggy Ait Bouichaouen was destined for the spice room where it would nestle under my feet as I write and dream. But it shrugged its shoulders—if rugs have them—and slithered down to the second floor landing. Now its electric vibe is shaking up the Paris café lithographs–when it’s not seducing me into kicking off my shoes so I can dig my toes deeper and deeper into its woolly strands…
I wouldn’t be surprised if an entire Berber family once snuggled close on this deep red Rehamna. It’s thick and soft, and appears to be quite happy in the spice room which, by the way, informs me that it wishes to be painted a turmeric hue. The black diamonds, woven of goat hair, provide bold protection from the evil eye—always a good thing when taking an afternoon nap.
And speaking of naps, at least one family member has decided where she’s sleeping tonight—and it’s not in her new dog bed.
Sweet dreams—and Happy 2010!