I love these posts-

they are an opportunity to share:

-little stories about the origin of items

-the generosity of others

-cautionary tales about the use of some gadgets

-instructions on the use of odd or seldom used stuff.

Today I’d like to highlight the tops of my cupboards.

 

I am short.

The tops of cupboards is a place I very rarely venture.

I need a ladder to get there- and yet when I look up there I want

to see something other than a bare wall (with cobwebs).

And so, over the years, I have filled this space with bits of pieces

that mean something to me.

Some of these things I’ve picked up in antique stores, but more

have been gifts- some of them created especially for me.

And so, precious.

Here I have glass decanters and  vases that came from my mother’s

cache of stuff.  Nothing of great value- except that I grew up with

it and couldn’t bring myself to throw it out after her death.

The wooden platter is a part of my collection of treen- or handcrafted

wooden pieces.  The basket is a ceramic piece my mother made and

gave me.  And the cast iron rooster?  I liked his cocky look at a local

antique store. 

The brass cup and bowl are from an antique store as well, but the

brass candlesticks that started my collection were from my mother-

to my sister- and on to me.  The wooden vase was made by my brother,

the vase came from my niece- a gift from her travels in Europe- and the

pitcher a gift from an old friend.  I love the look of lambs ears in grey and

green.

These clay crocks are used most frequently from  the collection.

They hold coney sauce and baked beans- honey and herbed butters-

sometimes soups and dips.  I like crocks- they retain heat and are

homey and useful.

This cookie jar is a collectable that was given to me by an old friend.

I LIKE cows, and cookies, and collectibles, especially the McCoy ceramic

pieces.  The candlestick was a gift from my brother – the brass piece came

with a lovely arrangement of flowers, the pitcher was from a set that

included a syrup pitcher and a bag of pancake batter, and the last pitcher

was stained and glazed by my mom.

So – when I look up in my kitchen- I am greeted by the memories and

love of friends and family.  I am home.