Time in

I recently purchased the first Object d'Art I've shelled money out for in a long, long time. Nothing fancy, basically something that caught my eye that I could actually afford while killing a few minutes in Pottery Barn. (Wow - It's been quite a while since I've ventured into that store and a couple years since they finally gave up on sending me their beautiful catalogs - has it always been this precious or has my life just changed that much?)

Simple, elegant, and decidedly low-tech, it's a real, live, surprisingly accurate hourglass. I thought of the absence of clutter currently gracing my living room/kitchen divider, inbetween the holiday decorations being packed away and our regular doo-dads coming back. I liked that smooth, clear plane. I decided that, for the time being, the doo-dads could stay safe and warm in their tub up in the attic and this simple machine could take their place.

Funny thing is, it's quite a thing of beauty, both literally and metaphorically. My whole family is fairly obsessed with turning it. There's something quite different about marking the next hour with falling sand. Most obviously, it's visual - watching it is an act unlike staring at a clock. It's also beautiful, simple.

But what's maybe most compelling is that each time the glass is turned, the sand falls in a way that is not quite like the time before. Or the time after. Every hour is unique. Special. Worth a look.

Every hour slips away like...sands in the hourglass.