Drifting in First Light...

A new fallen snow

masks once grand dames of technicolor,

visions of sugar plums

dancing their ruse

in my garden of

missed cultivation.

Oh well,

there is always the next season...right.

It's like that you know...

I'll tend to you faithfully...next year...

well, I'll try,

you see there are many schemes

at hand here,

wiling away the hours

drifted in and pondering,

new productions to my country fair are at play...

the garden of misfits,

the garden of jewels,

my cache of prairie gems

in unruly, yet planned, sculpted effects...

you know where the scheme lies,

why do I try...

your plan secreted away

under the the drifts of schedules

you look toward each year.

You are the playwright

and I, your fan,

cheer you to the heights

of fame... excel lance...

who am I to criticize,

when all I want is to revel

and roll in your seasoned perfume...

the essence of a nature

unfurled by the drifts

of time...

a season,

a new year

for all,

once again.

Come on in...

I love old doors...can you just imagine the history that has walked through these weathered old entrances. Whether it's through a mansion door or a barn door, I have a hard time visualizing them newly built, when so much character surrounds each ancient thresh hold. Weathered brick and mortar, board and stoop, all hold stories grand and meek.

I am just so happy to live in an era and be in a business that respects the textures and history, regardless of the decrepitude of the building and the grace of each old structure that holds these bits of history. I want to be a child again and run through the old screen door at Granny's house, "don't slam the door", is the memory I want to hold dear. Sneaking in through the barn door, playing hide and seek with the neighbor kids or looking for the fuzzy kittens you just spied peeking out from the dark and mysterious interiors of the old sheds of time.

To me, as a child or an adult, an old door is the entrance to many exciting new finds inside, inviting an intrepid explorer to sift through the rubble of time and discovers bits of a past long gone, but worthy of my praise, as I trip through time in the archaeology of an era long past, my clothes enshrouded in the dust and magic of my world...ahhh, I am at peace...is this for sale...how much???

RX for Cabin Fever

Decided yesterday to visit one of my favorite haunts to relieve a little buyers angst, you know when you can't get out of the house, weather wise (too derned cold) ... these are some of the treasures I found. The two terriers in the wonderful old frame, just caught my eye, since I'm one of the crazies that loves the wild terrier. Another old photo of a man, I couldn't resist because of his hair-do. Can you imagine what it was like back in the day when a quick shower wasn't even in the vocabulary...especially in the winter. I don't know about you, but having long hair, I know why they wore buns at the nape of the neck...eeewwww...

I don't know why, but I just love pitchers with fruit on them, they just call to me, especially when you have a fruit theme going on in your kitchen. Then of course the wonderful white ironstone pot and it's in perfect condition. The little white ironstone soap dish is just precious with it's tiny olive green leaf pattern, how sweet. Then I grabbed an old white tablecloth, you never know when one of those will come in handy for a multitude of uses.

So all in all, the day went pretty well, so I scrambled home before the ice moved in...just in time!

A Star to Follow...Shadow Shot Sunday...

A star you say,

as my wand'rings near and afar

bring images of faith

to a trav'lers heart...

a faith in a Universe

and mankind's goodwill,

to share in a vision

of hope and good cheer.

A simple wish,

but a deep sense of sight,

in an act that of seeing,

is it PEACE that we might...

We all have a dream,

tis that time of year,

but let's make it wondrous...

with truth and forgiveness,

of love and not fear.

It's that SSS time, check out Hey,Harriet and see what kind of fun Tracy has for the shadow-shooters in all of us. Join the group, you'll be hooked, I promise.

I love chairs and lamps and cupboards and teapots and...

Oh yes...and did I mention I love lampshades and tables and chandeliers and books and frames and mirrors and...

Argh...

What can I say here...you know when you are just compelled to do something so out of character and just driven by the winds and the forces that be...to let logic and stoic realism falter to some primal invasion of the senses, a need to be dangerous...a thrill for the moment...ahhh, to be young again and ride the seas of free will, into the night of dark shadow and intrigue...pillaging hoards 'longside mates Johnny Depp perhaps...or Morgan the pirate...

OK...now truth be, I've been up too long and the coffee's too strong...but I couldn't help myself...when I was buying charms the other day, this skull and crossbones just called to me...maybe it's my German ancestry that beckons me back to the sea and rugged coasts of my forefathers...or maybe, just maybe...my imagination just runs amok...but the Johnny Depp thing is real...right?

Anyway...I know my daughter would like this one, with the chunks of black, coal-like textures of the tektite and the beautiful smokey qualities of the fire-polished glass beads, the scarlet drop of blood-like crystal that dangles ever so delicately under the title 'Goth'...who knows, an ancester...maybe...but elements of the tribal fire were the inspiration for this combination...and no, I haven't gone round the bend, just bumped a milestone in history...or perhaps a longing...

Cheer...and dreams...

We are all trying this new thing called 'less is more' for Christmas. Worldwide we need to structure our lives into this new millennium with this mindset, what impact will my purchases have on my personal footprint in society today. All the wrapping paper that fills the landfills this time of year, boxes and Styrofoam, too much packaging for one single item. I guess that's where us crazies in the antique trade pride ourselves...we ARE the original recyclers. Scavenging and bartering to accumulate the product of our trade, we merrily roam hill and dale (and dumpster) to find treasures of bygone eras to fill your homes with the luxury and pride of history.

As travel becomes more of a dream than a reality, with the unsure nature of gas prices, we don't luxuriate into grand vacations anymore, we skip from antique show to antique show, auction to auction, fulfilling a dream and a niche in our lives and the lives of others, you our customers (in crime) for that eclectic piece that puts the perfect glow to our lives and homes and our ancestry.

Come to the story of the past...and whip into your favorite antique shop, your car knows the way...and we'll be waiting to please...Happy Holidays!

A Winter's Composition

And we all know how much I love winter...well, I couldn't help but take the ol' Canon out whilst I shoveled our 2 inches of snow from the drive...sorry Northerners, it's all we got...but what beautiful morning shadows it's brilliant, white beauty cast on my crisp Iowa morning, don't you agree...but, I think I'll bask indoors and enjoy it's beauty in front of the warm dry air of my registers and sip the brisk, black coffee offered at the Inn of the Pink Chateau...cheers...

Crisp frozen shadow,

marking a season's entry

to cold Arctic nights.

Watch me fade...the family farm...

Growing big and successful is the American way, but at what cost. Something to me is lost in the translation here as the family farm, an icon in American history, is lost again to a corporate world of mass production, chemical over-kill, illegal workers, methane air pollution and soil depletion. But staying on the family farm is quickly becoming a lost way of life, as more and more young would-be farmers head for the cities and more profitable lifestyles. Only 7% of small farms acquire 100% of their income from the farm and more than half are ages 45-64, only 6% are under age 35.

What happened to the sense of 'the good life', where clean air and cool, fresh spring waters once abounded. Where families sat at the kitchen table together after a hard day at the job, a labor of blood, sweat and tears to keep the family farm afloat. Where the eldest son would take over the farm and the senior could enjoy the fruits of his labors from the rocker on the porch. Just how do we define this good life in these times...

I guess, it would be just to have more and more stuff. Why not just sustain what we have...our lives shouldn't be defined by how much and how many. We are destroying a planet and a culture because of our blind greed. Many of the larger family farms are being split into parcels and sold to would-be farmers, city-slickers wanting a piece of the good life and a dream and really, there is nothing wrong with this, at least it keeps it out of the hands of the corporations, but it has also torn away the very fabric of this country's heart, the folk that fed the country...the American farmer.

Our world is so overpopulated today, it's hard to imagine a world working together for the better of the all. With all the greed and corruption that abounds worldwide, will we ever find the good life again? But I believe we can, it just starts with one...then another...we can watch the growth in our lifetime, if we just sit a spell on the porch in our old rockin' chairs and visualize this growth...a peace and harmony for one and all in one world.

Please support The Homestead Family Farm, buy organic and buy local...be the cure.

Memories Decline

A mansion in my eyes, this wonderful old home once shared beauty of an age past. Now I know a lot of you, in fact most of you, will share my opinion on this one. The owners of this property on the edge of the city, yet in the country, are thinking that this grand beauty is an eyesore and must be torn down, thinking that it will enhance the beauty of their property, which is right next door, across the field anyway. Now mind you , their home was built in the 60's, I believe, so it has the typical design of a brick ranch, which was one too, of an era. All the fancies of a doctor and his family with a pool and all the trimmings, none of the grandeur of this old home and in my opinion...boring. It's the son, who is a friend of my brother, that thinks the old home has no function or viability and should be razed.

I keep my fingers crossed that this Victorian queen will not see it's demise, through the eyes of individuals who care not for her regal stature or her promise to once again be a noble lady. Their twisted view of beauty is not shared by me and I hope they decide to fix up or sell. Most people looking to buy this home will know the amount of work needed to restore. It has been rented for years, allowing it to fall in disrepair, rather than a constant state of repair, that ALL homes in the North require, not just old homes. But so many landlords just collect rents and do nothing to improve the living conditions of their tenants or the structure of the buildings, allowing them to crumble...a decaying memory of pomp and past lives.

Let's keep our fingers and toes crossed on this one...I know my opinion is of my own making and it is not for the liking of everyone, as my own daughter would choose the newer model over the old, but I hope there are enough of us out there that see the beauty and will strive to maintain history and memory of a gentler era.