Just an Old Screen Door

My co-worker and I had to travel about an hour and a half yesterday to attend a meeting for work.  I was happy to let her drive because it gave me the opportunity to "pick" from the car.  Even though I was less than thrilled about attending the meeting, I truly enjoyed the trip.   I loved getting to look at the countryside as we traveled roads I'd never been down before, but I loved seeing the old farmhouses scattered across the landscape most of all.  I craned my neck on more than one occasion to get a closer look at what people had on their porches.  What was stacked up behind the house.  What was overflowing from the barn.  I was picking at 55mph!  

The one thing struck me the most and had me drooling was all of the old screen doors left on the front of abandoned homes.  Had we not been on a schedule, I would have asked her to pull over and let me out!  I'm in the process of preparing to screen in my back porch and the one thing I want more than anything else is old screen doors.  I don't want to go to the big box store and pick up new ones that are designed and created to look old.  The look of the old doors may be recreated in the new ones, but the feel and the sound of the slam isn't authentic in the new ones.  Can't be.  And that's what makes the old ones so special.  That's what makes them the real deal.  And the ones we passed by yesterday were the real deal.  I would love to be able to find the owner and make them an offer on those things!  But for now I guess I'll keep looking.  

Nothing Wasted

Today is the 4th Anniversary of my Granny Alice's death.  While it's difficult to believe she has been gone for four years already, so many of  her life lessons still resonate with me and I'm sure they always will.  One lesson in particular that she probably never even meant to teach has an especially strong meaning and presence in my life today.

Granny never threw much away.  I can remember watching her rinse out and save plastic bags and containers.  Sandwich bags, freezer bags, even bread bags were washed, dried, saved and reused.  Same thing with plastic bowls and cups.  Cool Whip bowls, butter bowls, sour cream containers.  All were saved and reused. She didn't see the purpose in throwing something away that could be used again.

Perhaps that outlook was one of the reasons she loved garage sales and yard sales so much.  She would pick me up early on Saturday mornings.  Me, an excited little girl with a couple of dollars to spend on whatever treasures I could find, and her with Thursday's newspaper full of red circles around the yard sales she had chosen and mapped out for us to visit that morning.  Off we'd go in search of treasure.  Browsing and sorting through other people's discarded items and often - no, I take that back - always - coming home with something.  It may not have been useful to the seller anymore...it may have even been broken or missing parts...but Granny could find a purpose for it and give it a new life.  She was good at it.  Very good at it.  Finding treasure among the discarded.  Finding purpose in the trash.

I must have inherited a small part of that gene because as I sit here this morning at my new desk made from an old door I picked up off the side of the road, I can't help but think that Granny would be very proud.  I think she would love my door desk and would love even more the fact that I've made something fabulous out of something meant for the garbage.  I think she'd see a little bit of herself in me and smile.  And while that makes me smile, too...it also makes me miss her that much more.

Give it Away

My grandmothers were both givers.  They gave money, time, food.  They gave canned goods, crocheted doilies & handmade Christmas ornaments.  They gave plants, flowers, and instructions on how to care for them.  They gave sewing lessons (which I would kill to have again!), life lessons, hello hugs and goodnight kisses.  They gave mason jars for catching tadpoles in the pond and roly poly bugs in the azalea bushes.  They gave walks to the library and Saturday morning trips to yard sales.  They gave happiness, laughter, joy and memories without even realizing it.  They gave love.

Neither one was wealthy...not according to the world's definition at least.  But what they had, they gave.  And that made both of them, and the recipients of their giving, rich beyond measure.

For the Love of Plundering

"Granny, can we plunder?"  I can still hear us now.  My cousin & I were spending the night with our grandmother and wanted to plunder through her stuff.  And my, what stuff she had!!  There's no doubt that my love of plundering/junking/picking...whatever you want to call it...comes from her.  She is the one, after all, that introduced me to the art.

We would sit together on a Thursday or Friday evening and go through the newspaper, looking at the yard sale ads for the upcoming Saturday and circling the ones we wanted to hit.  Then early Saturday morning she would pick me up and off we'd go.  I didn't know any other young girls my age who were trading in their Saturday morning cartoons or the chance to sleep late for yard sales with their grandmother.  But I was...and I loved every second of it.

That's why I knew that she had some really good stuff to plunder through.  I had seen her bring it home and had been with her when she had bought a lot of it.  She had drawers and closets and trunks full of stuff.  But alas, as with any proud owner of stuff, she didn't want kids rifling through it, messing up the chaotic order she had it in, and likely losing or breaking something along the way.  The answer was always no, but we never stopped asking.  Every time we'd spend the night we'd ask again, hoping that maybe...just maybe...she'd break down and change her mind one day.  She never did.

So while I never got the chance to plunder through my grandmother's stuff, I got something greater.  I got to spend countless Saturday mornings with her, sharing something she loved, and learning the fine art of picking without even realizing it.  And to this day I can't go to a yard sale or an estate sale without thinking of her and wishing she was there with me...so we could plunder together.  

The Rebirth of A Chair

Remember this sad little thing?  I found her lying beside the road.  

Because she was broken, she had been thrown away.  Tossed out like garbage.  I saw her, turned around and went back to get her. This is how she was when I found her:

 She needed quite a bit of work, including having a new leg built for her.  No wonder I love her!! :)

Here she is in recovery:

And here she is whole again...

After a little extra TLC... she's smiling in the sunshine this morning!  

HAPPY MONDAY FRIENDS!! We had a great weekend of picking & are so excited to get a jump on this week's projects.  Here is just one of the things we brought back:  

  This will be perfect to top off an existing desk/buffet/sideboard/table, or can be used anywhere more storage is needed such as a bath or laundry room.  Here's a couple of inspirational pics we found online of other repurposed hutch tops:

 Added to the top of existing sofa table as a china hutch.  How stinking cute is that!?!  Of course, I'd have to paint it!! 

This is my favorite.  I absolutely love it in the laundry room!!  

We spent the day on the beach yesterday and got so much inspiration from the colors. The pastels and lightwashes of beachy tones just scream out to me.  Stay tuned to see what cool beach-inspired color combos we decide on!

HAPPY BIRTHDAY GRANDMA TUCKER!

Today is July 20, my Grandma Tucker's birthday. 

It's so hard to believe she's been gone for 15 years. I still miss her immensely.  She taught me so much about life and love and survival, but most of all she taught me about giving - even and especially when it may seem that you don't have anything to give.  She always shared what she had, no matter how little.  I never left her house without taking something home with me and she never left a church service without putting something extra - above and beyond her tithes - in the offering plate.  I see so much of her sweet and humble spirit in my daughter, and my son bears her name.  Oh how I wish they were able to know her.  

Her 93 years on this earth were far too short if you ask me, but her legacy lives on through so many of us...and we rejoice in the knowledge that we will see her again one day!

Happy Birthday Grandma Tucker (Willie Mae)