By KIM COOK

Interior designer and stylist Jonny Carmack has a “fruit room” in his Danbury, Connecticut, home. Colorful faux produce bedecks every inch, from the cherry-shaped ceiling fixture to a strawberry side table and a bunch of other juicy gems in decorative forms.

He’s part of a trend: Love for fresh fruits and vegetables is showing up not just in the kitchen but in imagery throughout the home.

Carmack sees it as fun escapism, and “a cause for conversation and celebration.” Design experts say it also reflects a cultural embrace of sustainability and an upbeat connection to nature.

“There’s a certain romance to the farmstand — it speaks to the pastoral lifestyle everyone’s craving these days,” says Rachel Hardage Barrett, Country Living magazine’s editor-in-chief.

“This gravitation toward produce motifs intersects with spikes in interest around gardening, wellness and antiques.”

Barrett sees the trend in everything from home decor to apparel. She notes the recent viral trend Tomato Girl Summer; along with the color red, and various iterations of tomatoes, the vibe was one of Mediterranean cafes, beach walks and lazy summer days.

“Tomato Girl Summer obviously had a good run, but now there’s a whole bumper crop of produce to choose from, from cabbage and radishes to strawberries and peaches,” Barrett says.

Nostalgia is in play, too

Barrett sees a revival in interest around items with cabbages and lettuce, which were common motifs in the 18th and 19th centuries. Cabbageware and lettuce ware enjoyed a revival with the Palm Beach crowd in the ‘60s, with fans like Jacqueline Kennedy, Bunny Mellon and Frank Sinatra. Now, they’ve found a new audience.

“It ties into the ‘grandmillennial’ design movement that champions beloved heirlooms,” Barrett says. “Target recently introduced a cabbageware-inspired collection that garnered more than 15 million TikTok posts.”

Social media has helped drive the fruity décor trend. In 2023, TikTokers went wild over a lemon-shaped ceramic stool at HomeGoods. The piece sold out, but the popularity of tables shaped like citrus wedges continued to grow.

This winter’s interior design, décor and lifestyles shows in Paris and Frankfurt, Germany, sometimes felt more like vibrant produce markets than trade fairs.

Booths at Maison et Objet and Ambiente were full of planters festooned with 3D grapes and watermelons; mirrors encircled in peapods or pineapples; tomato-covered cups, glasses and tableware. Lamp shades and tablecloths wore artful imagery of berry baskets and carrot bunches. Cushions burst with juicy prints. Vases were peppered with — well, peppers, in clay or papier-mache.

Los Angeles-based design editor and author Courtney Porter was at February’s Ambiente fair in Frankfurt and enjoyed seeing the playful directions that designers were taking the trend. “Colors were supersaturated, shapes were exaggerated and cartoonish,” she said.

And she liked the obvious tie-in to healthy living.

“There’s an emphasis on sustainable materials and youthfulness with this trend, as well. People are nostalgic for natural abundance,” she said.

This 2025 photo provided by Kim Cook shows ceramic vessels decorated with lemons, seen at an exhibitor’s booth at the Ambiente fair in Frankfurt, Germany. (Kim Cook via AP)

Designers just wanna have fun

Carmack, whose social media accounts include @vintageshowpony, says the Fruit Room has been his most popular design project, “and it’s because of the cartoon references like Dr. Seuss and Animal Crossing. It just makes people happy.”

A fantastical fruit called the truffula shows up in “The Lorax.” And fruits in the Animal Crossing video games serve as trade tokens, village builders and currency.

Carmack imparts a little personality to his favorite fruits.

“Cherries are flirty and fun. Strawberries are like their younger sisters, cutesier and sweeter in nature,” he says.

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Cookbook author and food columnist Alyse Whitney has embraced what’s sometimes referred to on social media as the “Grocery Girl” vibe. Her apartment’s got a wreath made out of metal mushrooms and a ceramic stool that looks like a cut lemon. Then there’s all the banana-themed stuff: a platter, salt and pepper shakers, napkin rings.

Whitney says she’s been drawn to food décor her whole life, collecting fun pieces from discount retailers and thrift stores. But when she moved from New York to Los Angeles, she went to an estate sale.

“There, I got my first Murano-style glass produce — a bell pepper, a peach and a pear. And a small ceramic soup tureen shaped like a head of cauliflower, complete with 3D leaves and a matching plate that looked like its root and greens.” Those pieces got her on a full-fledged food collectible mission.

It’s a trend that spans decorating aesthetics, says Barrett.

“If your style is more retro or youthful, you can embrace a little kitsch. For a more sophisticated look, opt for fruit motifs in the form of wallcovering or fabric,” she says.

So, eat it or decorate with it; there are lots of ways to show your love for a favorite veg or fruit.

“Dressing your home with this aesthetic is an experiment in self-expression that so many people are connecting to,” says Carmack, “and I love to see it.”

New York-based writer Kim Cook covers design and decor topics regularly for The Associated Press. Follow her on Instagram at @kimcookhome.

For more AP Homes stories, go to https://apnews.com/hub/homes.

By ERIC TUCKER

WASHINGTON (AP) — Another federal judge in Washington has expressed skepticism on the legality of President Donald Trump’s executive order targeting a prominent law firm, saying he was concerned that the clear purpose of the edict was punishment.

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U.S. District Judge John Bates had already temporarily halted the Trump administration’s executive order against the firm of Jenner & Block but heard arguments Monday on a request by the firm to block it permanently. Lawyers for two other firms — Perkins Coie and WilmerHale — made similar arguments last week to judges who appeared receptive to their positions.

Like the other judges, Bates did not immediately rule but repeatedly pushed back against a Justice Department’s claims that the orders against Jenner and other law firms were not meant to punish them. The executive orders have generally imposed the same sanctions against the law firms, including ordering that security clearances of attorneys be suspended, that federal contracts be terminated and that lawyers be barred from accessing federal buildings.

“It’s trying to punish Jenner by stopping the flow of money to Jenner,” Bates said. He later asked: “Isn’t it logical that clients are going to be reluctant to engage Jenner & Block if they know there’s a real chance that Jenner and Block isn’t going to be able to go into a federal building or talk to federal agencies?”

Justice Department lawyer Richard Lawson said it was premature to make that assessment because guidelines governing how the executive order is to be implemented had not yet come out.

Michael Attanasio, a lawyer who presented arguments on behalf of Jenner & Block, said it was “surreal” to listen to the Justice Department’s “verbal gymnastics” in rationalizing the order and said

“This order is designed to do one thing: it’s designed to punish a law firm because of the cases it take and because of its affiliation with a critic of the president,” Attanasio said. That’s a reference to the fact that the executive order against the firm takes note of the fact that it previously employed Andrew Weissmann, a prosecutor on special counsel Robert Mueller’s team that investigated Trump during his first term.

“All we need to do is read this thing,” Attanasio said. “It reeks of unconstitutionality. It should be set aside in its entirety.”

Each of the law firms subject to an executive order that has challenged it in court has succeeded in getting it temporarily blocked. Other firms, by contrast, have opted to preemptively reach agreements with the White House to avoid getting targeted.

By SARAH EL DEEB, MOHAMMED JAHJOUH and LEE KEATH

KHAN YOUNIS, Gaza Strip (AP) — Nearly seven months pregnant, Yasmine Siam couldn’t sleep, living in a crowded tent camp in Gaza and shaken often by Israeli bombardment. She couldn’t find proper food and hadn’t eaten meat for more than a month. Weak and losing weight, she saw doctors every day. There was little they could do.

One night this month, pain shot through her. She worried labor was starting but was too terrified of gunfire to leave her tent. Siam waited till daybreak to walk to the nearest mobile clinic. The medics told her to go to Nasser Hospital, miles away.

She had to take a donkey cart, jolted by every bump in the bombed-out roads. Exhausted, the 24-year-old found a wall to lean on for the hourslong wait for a doctor.

An ultrasound showed her baby was fine. Siam had a urinary tract infection and was underweight: 57 kilos (125 pounds), down 6 kilos (13 pounds) from weeks earlier. The doctor prescribed medicine and told her what every other doctor did: Eat better.

“Where do I get the food?” Siam said, out of breath as she spoke to The Associated Press on April 9 after returning to her tent outside the southern city of Khan Younis.

“I am not worried about me. I am worried about my son,” she said. “It would be terrible if I lose him.”

With Gaza decimated, miscarriages rise

Siam’s troubled pregnancy has become the norm in Gaza. Israel’s 18-month-old military campaign decimating the territory has made pregnancy and childbirth more dangerous, even fatal, for Palestinian women and their babies.

It has become worse since March 2, when Israel cut off all food, medicine and supplies for Gaza’s more than 2 million people.

Meat, fresh fruits and vegetables are practically nonexistent. Clean water is difficult to find. Pregnant women are among the hundreds of thousands who trudge for miles to find new shelters after repeated Israeli evacuation orders. Many live in tents or overcrowded schools amid sewage and garbage.

Up to 20% of Gaza’s estimated 55,000 pregnant women are malnourished, and half face high-risk pregnancies, according to the United Nations Population Fund, or UNFPA. In February and March, at least 20% of newborns were born prematurely or suffering from complications or malnutrition.

With the population displaced and under bombardment, comprehensive miscarriage and stillbirth figures are impossible to obtain. Records at Khan Younis’ Nasser Hospital show miscarriages in January and February were double the same period in 2023.

Dr. Yasmine Shnina, a Doctors Without Borders supervisor of midwives at Nasser Hospital, documented 40 miscarriages a week in recent weeks. She has recorded five women a month dying in childbirth, compared with around two a year before the war.

“We don’t need to wait for future impact. The risks are emerging now,” she said.

A love story in the tents

For Siam and her family, her pregnancy — after a whirlwind, wartime marriage — was a rare joy.

Driven from Gaza City, they had moved three times before settling in the tent city sprawling across the barren coastal region of Muwasi.

Late last summer, they shared a meal with neighbors. A young man from the tent across the way was smitten.

The next day, Hossam Siam asked for Yasmine’s hand in marriage.

She refused initially. “I didn’t expect marriage in war,” she said. “I wasn’t ready to meet someone.”

Hossam didn’t give up. He took her for a walk by the sea. They told each other about their lives. “I accepted,” she said.

On Sept. 15, the groom’s family decorated their tent. Her best friends from Gaza City, dispersed around the territory, watched the wedding online

Within a month, Yasmine Siam was pregnant.

Her family cherished the coming baby. Her mother had grandsons from her two sons but longed for a child from her daughters. Siam’s older sister had been trying for 15 years to conceive. Her mother and sister — now back in Gaza City — sent baby essentials.

From the start, Siam struggled to get proper nutrition, relying on canned food.

After a ceasefire began in January, she and Hossam moved to Rafah. On Feb. 28, she had a rare treat: a chicken, shared with her in-laws. It was her last time eating meat.

A week later, Hossam walked for miles searching for chicken. He returned empty-handed.

‘Even the basics are impossible’

Israel has leveled much of Gaza with its air and ground campaign, vowing to destroy Hamas after its Oct. 7, 2023, attack on southern Israel. It has killed over 51,000 Palestinians, mostly women and children, according to Gaza’s Health Ministry, whose count does not distinguish between civilians and combatants. Hamas has been designated as a terrorist organization by the United States, Canada and the European Union.

In the Oct. 7 attack, terrorists killed about 1,200 people, mostly civilians, and abducted 251. They still hold 59 hostages after most were released in ceasefire deals.

In Gaza’s ruins, being pregnant is a formidable struggle.

It’s not just about quantity of food, said Rosalie Bollen, of UNICEF, “it’s also about nutritional diversity, the fact that they have been living in very dire, unsanitary conditions, sleeping on the ground, sleeping in the cold and just being stuck in this permanent state of very toxic stress.”

Nine of the 14 hospitals providing maternal health services before the war still function, though only partially, according to UNFPA.

Because many medical facilities are dislocated by Israeli military operations or must prioritize critical patients, women often can’t get screenings that catch problems early in pregnancy, said Katy Brown, of Doctors Without Borders-Spain.

That leads to complications. A quarter of the nearly 130 births a day in February and March required surgical deliveries, UNFPA says.

“Even the basics are impossible,” Brown said.

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Under the blockade, over half the medicines for maternal and newborn care have run out, including ones that control bleeding and induce labor, the Health Ministry says. Diapers are scarce. Some women reuse them, turning them inside out, leading to severe skin infections, aid workers say.

Israel says the blockade aims to pressure Hamas into releasing the remaining hostages. Rights groups call it a “starvation tactic” endangering the entire population and a potential war crime.

At Nasser Hospital’s maternity ward, Dr. Ahmad al-Farra witnessed things go from bad to worse.

Israeli forces raided the hospital in early 2024, claiming it housed Hamas fighters. Incubators in a warehouse were wrecked. The maternity ward was rebuilt into Gaza’s largest and best equipped for emergencies.

Since Israel broke the two-month ceasefire on March 18, the hospital has been flooded with wounded.

Up to 15 premature babies at a time need respirators, but the hospital has only two CPAP machines to keep preemies breathing. Some are put on adult respirators, often leading to death, al-Farra said.

Twenty CPAP machines languish outside Gaza, unable to enter because of the blockade, along with 54 ultrasounds, nine incubators and midwifery kits, according to the U.N.

A lack of cleaning supplies makes hygiene nearly impossible. After giving birth, women and newborns weakened by hunger frequently suffer infections causing long-term complications, or even death, said al-Farra.

Yasmine Zakout was rushed to Nasser Hospital in early April after giving birth prematurely to twin girls. One girl died within days, and her sister died last week, both from sepsis.

Before the war, al-Farra said he would maybe see one child a year with necrotizing pneumonia, a severe infection that kills lung tissue.

“In this war, I treated 50 cases,” al-Farra said. He removed parts of the lungs in nearly half those babies. At least four died.

Pregnant women are regularly among the wounded.

Khaled Alserr, a surgeon at Nasser Hospital, told of treating a four months pregnant woman after an April 16 strike. Shrapnel had torn through her uterus. The fetus couldn’t be saved, he said, and pregnancy will be risky the rest of her life. Two of her children were among 10 children killed in the strike, he said.

The stress of the war

In her sixth month of pregnancy, Siam walked and rode a donkey cart for miles back to a tent in Muwasi after Israel ordered Rafah evacuated.

With food even scarcer, she turned to charity kitchens distributing meals of plain rice or pasta.

Weakened, she fell down a lot. Stress was mounting — the misery of tent life, the separation from her mother, the terror of airstrikes, the fruitless visits to clinics.

“I just wish a doctor would tell me, ‘Your weight is good.’ I’m always malnourished,” she told the AP, almost pleading.

Hours after her scare on April 9, Siam was still in pain. She made her fifth visit to the mobile clinic in two days. They told her to go to her tent and rest.

She started spotting. Her mother-in-law held her up as they walked to a field hospital in the dead of night.

At 3 a.m., the doctors said there was nothing she could do but wait. Her mother arrived from Gaza City.

Eight hours later, the fetus was stillborn. Her mother told her not to look at the baby. Her mother-in-law said he was beautiful.

Her husband took their boy to a grave.

Days later, she told the AP she breaks down when she sees photos of herself pregnant. She can’t bear to see anyone and refuses her husband’s suggestions to take walks by the sea, where they sealed their marriage.

She wishes she could turn back time, even for just a week.

“I would take him into my heart, hide him and hold on to him.”

She plans to try for another baby.

El Deeb reported from Beirut. Keath reported from Cairo.

By Karen Brown, New England Public Media, KFF Health News

Michele Andrews had been seeing her internist in Northampton, Massachusetts, a small city two hours west of Boston, for about 10 years. She was happy with the care, though she started to notice it was becoming harder to get an appointment.

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“You’d call and you’re talking about weeks to a month,” Andrews said.

That’s not surprising, as many workplace surveys show the supply of primary care doctors has fallen well below the demand, especially in rural areas such as western Massachusetts. But Andrews still wasn’t prepared for the letter that arrived last summer from her doctor, Christine Baker, at Pioneer Valley Internal Medicine.

“We are writing to inform you of an exciting change we will be making in our Internal Medicine Practice,” the letter read. “As of September 1st, 2024, we will be switching to Concierge Membership Practice.”

Concierge medicine is a business model in which a doctor charges patients a monthly or annual membership fee — even as the patients continue paying insurance premiums, copays, and deductibles. In exchange for the membership fee, doctors limit their number of patients.

Many physicians who’ve made the change said it resolved some of the pressures they faced in primary care, such as having too many patients to see in too short a time.

Andrews was floored when she got the letter. “The second paragraph tells me the yearly fee for joining will be $1,000 per year for existing patients. It’ll be $1,500 for new patients,” she said.

Although numbers are not tracked in any one place, the trade magazine Concierge Medicine Today estimates there are 7,000 to 22,000 concierge physicians in the U.S. Membership fees range from $1,000 to as high as $50,000 a year.

Critics say concierge medicine helps only patients who have extra money to spend on health care, while shrinking the supply of more traditional primary care practices in a community. It can particularly affect rural communities already experiencing a shortage of primary care options.

Andrews and her husband had three months to either join and pay the fee or leave the practice. They left.

“I’m insulted and I’m offended,” Andrews said. “I would never, never expect to have to pay more out of my pocket to get the kind of care that I should be getting with my insurance premiums.”

Baker, Andrews’ former physician, said fewer than half her patients opted to stay — shrinking her patient load from 1,700 to around 800, which she considers much more manageable. Baker said she had been feeling so stressed that she considered retiring.

“I knew some people would be very unhappy. I knew some would like it,” she said. “And a lot of people who didn’t sign up said, ‘I get why you’re doing it.’”

Patty Healey, another patient at Baker’s practice, said she didn’t consider leaving.

“I knew I had to pay,” Healey said. As a retired nurse, Healey knew about the shortages in primary care, and she was convinced that if she left, she’d have a very difficult time finding a new doctor. Healey was open to the idea that she might like the concierge model.

“It might be to my benefit, because maybe I’ll get earlier appointments and maybe I’ll be able to spend a longer period of time talking about my concerns,” she said.

This is the conundrum of concierge medicine, according to Michael Dill, director of workforce studies at the Association of American Medical Colleges. The quality of care may go up for those who can and do pay the fees, Dill said. “But that means fewer people have access,” he said. “So each time any physician makes that switch, it exacerbates the shortage.”

Blue Canyon Primary Care offers “direct primary care” in Northampton, Massachusetts, for patients who pay $225 a month. Direct primary care is similar to concierge medicine but does not accept insurance. Patients must pay out-of-pocket and can seek reimbursement from their insurers afterward. (Karen Brown/New England Public Media/TNS)

His association estimates the U.S. will face a shortage of 20,200 to 40,400 primary care doctors within the next decade.

A state analysis found that the percentage of residents in western Massachusetts who said they had a primary care provider was lower than in several other regions of the state.

Dill said the impact of concierge care is worse in rural areas, which often already experience physician shortages. “If even one or two make that switch, you’re going to feel it,” Dill said.

Rebecca Starr, an internist who specializes in geriatric care, recently started a concierge practice in Northampton.

For many years, she consulted for a medical group whose patients got only 15 minutes with a primary care doctor, “and that was hardly enough time to review medications, much less manage chronic conditions,” she said.

When Starr opened her own medical practice, she wanted to offer longer appointments — but still bring in enough revenue to make the business work.

“I did feel a little torn,” Starr said. While it was her dream to offer high-quality care in a small practice, she said, “I have to do it in a way that I have to charge people, in addition to what insurance is paying for.”

Starr said her fee is $3,600 a year, and her patient load will be capped at 200, much lower than the 1,000 or even 2,000 patients that some doctors have. But she still hasn’t hit her limit.

“Certainly there’s some people that would love to join and can’t join because they have limited income,” Starr said.

Many doctors making the switch to concierge medicine say the membership model is the only way to have the kind of personal relationships with patients that attracted them to the profession in the first place.

“It’s a way to practice self-preservation in this field that is punishing patients and doctors alike,” said internal medicine physician Shayne Taylor, who recently opened a practice offering “direct primary care” in Northampton. The direct primary care model is similar to concierge care in that it involves charging a recurring fee to patients, but direct care bypasses insurance companies altogether.

Taylor’s patients, capped at 300, pay her $225 a month for basic primary care visits — and they must have health insurance to cover care such as X-rays and medications, which her practice does not provide. But Taylor doesn’t accept insurance for any of her services, which saves her administrative costs.

“We get a lot of pushback because people are saying, ‘Oh, this is elitist, and this is only going to be accessible to people that have money,’” Taylor said.

But she said the traditional primary care model doesn’t work. “We cannot spend so much time seeing so many patients and documenting in such a way to get an extra $17 from the insurance company.”

While much of the pushback on the membership model comes from patients and policy experts, some of the resistance comes from physicians.

Paul Carlan, a primary care doctor who runs Valley Medical Group in western Massachusetts, said his practice is more stretched than ever. One reason is that the group’s clinics are absorbing some of the patients who have lost their doctor to concierge medicine.

“We all contribute through our tax dollars, which fund these training programs,” Carlan said.

“And so, to some degree, the folks who practice health care in our country are a public good,” Carlan said. “We should be worried when folks are making decisions about how to practice in ways that reduce their capacity to deliver that good back to the public.”

But Taylor, who has the direct primary care practice, said it’s not fair to demand that individual doctors take on the task of fixing a dysfunctional health care system.

“It’s either we do something like this,” Taylor said, “or we quit.”

This article is from a partnership that includes New England Public Media , NPR , and KFF Health News.

©2025 KFF Health News. Distributed by Tribune Content Agency, LLC.