For me, there's no better way to spend a weekend morning than curled up under the covers with my cats at my feet, a cappuccino in hand, eating breakfast in bed, and catching up on my reading and correspondence (who still writes letters and has actual penpals? THIS GIRL). I'm savoring these few rare months in Florida when I can have my doors and windows open and put to use my favorite quilts and blankets (all are handmade by my grandmother) without sweating profusely. This morning in bed, I have been browsing through a coffee table book entitled Lartigue's Winter Pictures. The photographer is one of Matt's favorites, and over the past few years he's introduced me to his work through an amazingly telling series of picture books. Jacques Henri Lartigue was a French photographer and artist, most well-known for his medium format photographs of his family and friends running, jumping and being silly on their extravagant vacations — many in the French alps.


The book is also interspersed with excerpts from his journal. I absolutely adore his writing style...why does no one write like this anymore?

"Today I couldn't care less about anything. Everything has been erased inside me and outside me by the dazzle of the sun. I left the little village full of muddy slush and tourists dressed up in their 'valiant mountaineer' costumes and, lunch on my back, I climbed to find the snow near my little chalet of last year, motionless in its desert of light. In the immense silence, as though hanging in the air, it was waiting for me as if all that I had done since the last time had been only an interlude in this paradise." -Lartigue Megève, France February 16, 1933

I'm also a huge fan of the portraits he took of his mistress, Renée Perle, during the early '30s.