Tuesday, July 24, 2012

New Trifles

The clock is tickin' and the Barn House Vintage & Antique Marketplace is only days away!
I've been crossing things off my list and starting new lists.  Down to the little details.

It has felt wonderful to get back to creating pieces that make me happy.  Working with the textures and hues that make me comfortable.  Preserving bits and pieces of the late 1800's and early 1900's. 

 The quality and detail is beautiful and it speaks to me.  I am glad it speaks to me, but sometimes I wish it would wait until morning instead of in the middle of the night!  Oh well, you can't be choosy.  Just like a good, old friend ... you are there for them whenever - right?

This assemblage represents taking care of important things:  mending, caring for and preserving.  Whether it be relationships, a way of life, or things that can never be replaced. 
Respect it, value it and keep it in a safe place - maybe in your heart?

This is re-purposed suitcase lid makes an interesting base for
a collection of special bits.   You can create whatever story suits you.
Use your imagination ...  hmm ...
you are a young woman who, quite by chance, met the tall,
 dark and oh so handsome son of one of your father's colleagues. 
(Thank you daddy!)
You went out to the veranda to sip your lemonade
and enjoy the summer breeze...
and there, he was ...

You can take it from here.  My job is done.

These and more re-purposed creations will be in my space with Molly Mo's in the
Barn House barn. Lots and lots of  "as found" and re-purposed treasures:  furniture, linens, chandeliers, ironstone, unique odds and ends.  Months of collecting just for you.  Come see us! M.

Wednesday, July 18, 2012

Countdown to Barn House

It hit me this morning that in one week my hubby and I will be taking most of the stuff out of our garage, loading it into a trailer and heading to Battle Ground to unload at Barn House! One week! Holy Moly! Okay, actually ONE WEEK and one day!

This past weekend we worked to finish all the stuff that I had hoped to create.  I think we did it and then some.  I got out my journal/sketch book and checked off the list.  Wow that feels good. 

Yes, I still need to do handwork on pillows and aprons.  There still are a few signs to letter ... and a few special assemblage pieces to complete.  Otherwise, I may almost be there. Whew. Almost...

Anyway,this is a little piece I put together cleaning off my work bench.  It is a favorite because I didn't stress and fuss over it.  It just came together.  I love it when that happens. A real "vintage trifle".

The little display rack in the background is another piece I made by cleaning off the work bench.
(Hmmm... maybe I should make this a habit.)
Hooks for keys, a leash, shopping bag, etc. and clips for notes, special pics & reminders.
All from salvaged bits and pieces. Perfect!

These little crusty-rusty things were a bonus given to me by a friend just before her husband was going to take them to the dump.  Yes, the dump.  They make perfect candle holders!

I can't do a show without making some pillows.  There is just something about a down-filled pillow covered in linen.  The antique lace is the "icing on the cake". 
I have to stop and hug them every once in a while.  Almost as good as a teddy bear.

If I have time to take more pics, I will update you more before the show.
 Lots of fun, unique, wonderful stuff just waiting for you to fall in love with it!

All at: 

Come see me.  I'll be just inside the barn.  It will be a great show with so many great
vendors, great food and drink, a great location and wonderful hosts.  M.

Tuesday, July 3, 2012

Celebrating Independence Day

I grew up just outside of Kansas City where summer weather started before Memorial Weekend.  The 4th of Julys were sunny& hot.  We celebrated as a family by going to my Aunt Sissy and Uncle Ray's house because it was across the street from Shawnee Mission North High School which hosted a fabulous fireworks display.

Since it was always hot, my mom and dad made homemade ice cream.  Mom made the yummy, rich vanilla custard and dad "manned" the ice cream freezer.  The freezer was the kind we all love to find at estate sales.  It was a funny shade of green that faded to a soft aqua. After placing the cannister in the wooden bucket, Dad filled the bucket with ice and just the right amount of rock salt to help melt the ice.  The whole ice-to-salt- ratio, cranking-turning-magic thing is what made the most luscious vanilla ice cream.

Eventually he would add some folded towels or throw rugs on top of the whole contraption and have one of us sit on top to help keep it from moving while he cranked.  It would get harder and harder to turn as the ice cream got thicker and thicker.  The melted, salty water would drain out of a hole in the bottom of the wooden bucket and cool your hot, dirty bare feet.

When it was done freezing, he would pack it up and load it in the Chevy to take to our celebration.  Gosh it was hard to wait.  After all the potato salad, sliced home-grown tomatoes and barbequed chicken the ice cream was dished up.  I can still taste that wonderful ice cream AND I can still remember the brain freeze you would get from eating it too fast!  Didn't matter, it was worth it.

Once it was dark enough, the fireworks display would begin.  We would lay on blankets in the front yard to watch the sky.  All you could hear were "ooohs and aaahs".  We always thought it was better than the year before.  Suddenly there would be a huge burst of every kind of explosion and sparkle.  One after another, then it was over for another year.  Felt almost like opening your last Christmas present.  Bitter-sweet.

Dad and Mom would load up the leftovers - which never included any of the ice cream - and we would head home.  It was the one of two nights of the year that we would be out late.  The other was New Year's Eve.  New Year's Eve never compared to the 4th of July.  Dad never made ice cream for New Year's Eve!  The whole memory is golden.

Wishing you all a happy and safe 4th of July and a nostalgic, brain-freezing celebration. M.

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