What They Mean To Me
I knew this Fun Monday assignment would prove very difficult. I am a collector...antiques, heirlooms, memorabilia, junk...whatever you want to call it....I collect it. Narrowing the assignment to just one object was impossible. The bulk of what I own is old, used, somewhat battered and most of it has a memory dear to my heart somewhere in its provenance. From my dad's last pair of cowboy boots that sit on a bench in my living room to my Granny W.'s complete set of "company" dishes that she bought from a peddler...and let's not forget my Grandpa T.'s garden hoe that is worn so thin and sharp that it is like a horizontal knife with an extra long handle...so many items full of sentiment reside in and around my home. And while the objects themselves are dear, the memories they evoke are even more precious.
All the quilts in this picture were hand pieced and quilted by either my Granny W. or my Granny T. My baby quilts are hanging on the back of the rack. The two predominantly green quilts were high school graduation gifts. The quilt on the bed was made by Granny W. and holds an extra special place in my heart. Every print quilt piece was cut from a dress I wore as a little girl. I'll have to take a better picture of it to post in the future because it truly is a work of the heart. The little black lamb on the window sill was a gift from my godmother when I was born. And the two cats on the bed are dear feline friends who have moved on to kitty heaven. This picture was taken in the late 80's in my apartment in Salisbury, Maryland.
This is a corner of my current bedroom. My dad made the benches out of wood from our old barn. The birdhouses are hand-made. I found the sewing notions and thread chest in a local antique store. I keep jewelry in it. I got the chest of drawers at an auction for $65.00. I stripped two awful layers of paint from it to arrive at its lovely natural finish.
It was a sad time when my uncle began to tear down my grandparent's fine old farmhouse. My dad salvaged a lot of wood from the old house. He made several of these little benches from Granny's yellow painted kitchen cabinets. It means so much to have many things that my dad made from wood. He was an exacting craftsman. It is like icing on the cake to know the wood is from structures in which I spent countless hours of my childhood.
A shrub may not actually be an object, but this forsythia has special meaning because it grew from a root of my Granny W.'s forsythia. I am so thankful that I dug that root. The original shrub was destroyed when Granny's house was torn down and a new home was built in its place. I now have three more forsythias in my yard taken from roots of this shrub. I love that continuity; that something my Granny planted and cared for thrives in my own piece of the earth.
I got this old rattan chair at an auction. You may see it as a piece of junk, but I saw it as a nice addition to my herb garden. My parents and I used to go to auctions every weekend. Dad just loved to "wheel and deal." The garlic chives blooming so nicely in front of the chair came from the herb garden of my mom's friend. In fact, the beginnings of my whole garden came from that same woman. Continuity.
These are just a few of the many 'objects' that hold special meaning for me. I have a deep love and appreciation for all things old. We discard and and replace things too easily in our modern world. Sadly enough, we tend to treat old people that way too. There is a line from the movie Seabiscuit that sums up how I feel. It goes something like this....you don't throw something away just because it is a little beat up. It still has some use to it and besides it's just nice to look at.
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Labels: odds and ends;family