Antique Sampler

Sometimes, it's just meant to be.

Another gal and I have been handling the estate of some dear friends.

There was so much stuff in the house that there are two estate sales

off site in order to accommodate the pure volume.

We had cleaned and sorted a ton of 'stuff' before the estate sale folks

even entered to begin their process.

During all that sorting and even at the pre-sale browse,

I never saw it.

It wasn't until after the first sale,

when we got to go through the leftovers to see if there was anything

we wanted at half off, that I saw it.

I am guessing it was made by Shirley's mother

which is a little odd since it was Bob's mom who did more stitching.

But Shirley's mom liked to cook and appreciated food.

I don't know this ~ it's just a hunch.

The other fun bit is that the fella has a fish on his line.

Mr. LB being the avid fly-fisherman he is was pleased to see that.

There are so many things that were hiding, packed away.

I would have loved to have asked questions.

(including who was in many photos we found)

Obviously that's not possible.

At this point, I figure the best I can do is appreciate the item,

remember my friends with fondness,

and clear out or give away the things that might turn into 

forgotten relics from our own home.

I am thankful to everyone who looked at this piece and passed it by.

It is now hanging in our kitchen ~ right where it belongs.

Going Home (for a spin-in)

There's a little saying,

"You can't go home again."

I simply have to disagree.
This past weekend, I had the privilege of heading home.
I awoke early and was on the road by 6:45AM.
I decided to go "the back way" since 
I hadn't been that way for 20 some-odd years.
It was spectacular.

(If only the power lines weren't there.)

Later, I told my dad I could have stopped just about anywhere
past a certain point - and just stopped.
I mean time, living, whatever.
Not in a morbid way, just a content and peaceful way.
Rolling green meadows meeting the forest tree line
against a backdrop of snow-capped mountains.

Perhaps I should preface this outing just a little.
As a kid, we moved quite a bit - no not military,
just gypsies I suppose.
I wasn't scarred or emotionally damaged by it.
It's just what it was.
However, when we moved to Prairie City, Oregon, I was home.
Have you ever been someplace where you just seem to "belong?"
It's as though you were born there in another life, or
that perhaps God Himself had ushered you to this place?
That's what the saying "Home is where your heart is" means.
It's a feeling not only in your heart, but your very being.
Sometimes I think folks who move often just haven't found that place yet.

Prairie City is a little idyllic town of roughly 1000 people - give or take.
And, I wasn't going for a funeral or passing through on my way to or from
some other event.
I went for a spin-in at Roan Coffee House.
And may I just say, it was superb!
12-15 of us gathered for the sole purpose of enjoying ourselves.
So to re-cap:
we met to enjoy ourselves while partaking in a craft we appreciate,
in a completely picturesque  place with perfect weather, and there was coffee.
Sounds horrible huh?

There were various kinds of wheels which I found fascinating.

                                       

       

This was Theresa's "Grand Spindle Wheel" about 3-4 ft. tall.

I had never seen one like it.

Afterwards, we gathered at the house of one of the ladies

for a BBQ dinner.

Then a friend (who is like a spare mom to me) and I

drove the 15 minutes to her house where we chatted and caught up

until even later at night.

It was an amazing weekend and

I got to "feel" home again.

I love where we live - in the mountains along the river,

but they are different mountains, a different river, etc.

There is something to be said for home.

I hope each and every one of you has that, and if you don't yet,

you'll know when you get there.