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In the world of interiors blogs, the first rule of thumb for maintaining readership might as well be, "Don't throw Pottery Barn pictures up on your page." There is a half dozen reasons at least but the top one has to do with that catalog being in every chair-side magazine rack in the $50,000-$1 million income demo range in the nation. Follow? You are not telling your readers anything they do not know. Readers only want posts on things they have not thought about or already recycled that day, trust me.

I am in that group. If you show me pictures of dining room tables from Pottery Barn, two sure key strokes and a sigh later, I'm history. So, without further delay, the dining tables of Pottery Barn... well, sort of.

This is a risky thing, perhaps, because you have all seen their products. But they could be selling six day old trout on saw horses for all I know; I'm a little obsessed with the tabletop styling. If you are still there (are those crickets?), come with me.

Armfuls of two-tone tulips, finally artfully avoiding the characteristic droop which is normal for the flower. Reminded me of something commenter LPC noted last week, "The other option, of course, for those of us with no patience, is to buy 3 dozen of the exact same beautiful flower - tulips, peonies, yellow roses - and jam them into a silver pitcher and be happy." In glass bowls, but much the same idea. Beautiful.

Captured in a huge vase and next to a huge bunch of hydrangea in an patina'ed bucket.

Hydrangea, tulips, asparagus, thought given to spring green and white, garden urns pulled into an otherwise more formal indoor room, touches of yellow against white and dark woods: Striking.


Sophisticated, calm, and luxe: Huge, fearless, white hydrangea poms mashed into modern vessels against breezy white curtains, creamy walls, and dark woods.


Alice Water's centerpiece perhaps? I love a fruit and vegetable centerpiece, the Italian soda's help the color along for the shot but in a real home, those earthly gifts need no assistance.

Daffodils: Just everywhere, interrupted by the mischievous glances of a poised rabbit. Normally I don't go in for kitsch on a table or anywhere else but this one gets a pass, for now.

Tonally matched calla's in a boat-shaped vessel. I would clear-tip the stems in water to help them survive, then cover the tips with a little moss. Otherwise: Dead flower centerpiece, pass.

Hands off the key board please, darlings, this is not a permanent feature.