Spares?

Isn’t Instagram inspiring? My graddaughter was inspired to forward pictures of a portable quilted checkerboard that led a double life as a tic tac toe game. 

I was inspired to make it for her.

I rifled through my fabric stash and found some leftover bits from making her baby quilt! And I chopped up (upcycled) a denim shirt and pondered checkers. 

Wooden checkers! Drat!  I used to have the exact checkers for this moment, but they had been carted off to the thrift shop as we downsized once and then twice. 

Back to the thrift shop I went. 

Sure enough.  Lovely wooden checkers. Brown and cream. But not enough. At least that is what I mistakenly thought. And so I bought another set.  At a different thrift shop.  It came bundled with two other sets. I had needed 24 checkers.  I now had 96! It’s good to have spares, right? 

Just like the bunny

While foraging at a thrift shop I unearthed a little crewel kit, circa 1979. It seemed the perfect time to try something new.  I washed the small bundles of wool and let them air dry in case moths had wandered by and taken a bite or two.  They had but only half heartedly.  

It was so much fun to stitch!

I made a few tweaks. I replaced the pink wool supplied for the berries with navy and burgundy: blackberry colors.  And turned four flowers destined to be yellow petalled, into white trilliums.  I thought that seemed more wild and woodsy.  Just like the bunny.  

I can tell

A little shore bird is the first thing I see every morning when I swing wide my door. He's never startled.  Just bravely stands his ground. 

His migration route was likely a very interesting story if he could speak.  He lived briefly at a thrift shop amongst the pressed glass and pottery. Such a sweet little fellow.  

He was banded and a tiny tag around his ankle had a single word. Kenya. Clever, nimble fingers far away gave him life. 

And away he flew to Canada.  

I can tell he's happy.  He's settled right in and has made his home between the hosta and the astilbe.

twinkle twinkle

Isn't pinterest a boon to mankind? Where else would you see brown paper bags transformed magically into stars? 

The paper bags for these stars were one of those serendipitous thrift store finds that make your heart leap for joy. There they were, a huge bundle of them, clearly left over from a wedding, having His and Hers stamped carefully on the middle of each. I knew that wouldn't show as the bags are glued and stacked. And even better, these bags are about half the size of regular paper lunch sacs making the stars just the right size!

bundle of blank

I  pounced on a bundle of blank cards at the thrift shop. They are such a wonderful color, brown like paper bags, embossed, and have nice heavy envelopes. Be still my heart!!
The embossed part seemed the only negative until I had one in my hand and colored pencils in the other.
Wood grain!!
I felt like I was drawing on wood!
What better subject for wood, than a horse.
This card is mixed-media.
I've always wanted to say that.
It is colored pencil, watercolor pencil, and felt pen.

made me happy

I had a brown hoodie that I never seemed to reach for. The color was lovely though, warm and chocolatey. And it had raglan sleeves which are so comfortable. And pockets too, side ones instead of the usual kangaroo ones most hoodies have. So many good things but it still went unworn. It didn't seem much of a risk to upcycle it.

I snipped off the stretchy ribbing around the bottom and the sleeves and chomped off the hood.

Some gray fabric with strawberries and sunshine seemed just right. And lining in a warm yellow green. And binding in an even warmer yellow green.

Wavy quilting made me happy.

And the finished jacket/sweater made me even happier.

I'm pondering a button. Or not.

at the same time

I found this amazing bag at a thrift shop last fall. Plastic shopping bags were cut into strips and crocheted. It's tough as nails and lovely as can be at the same time. Isn't the mottled pattern of color wonderful?

A+

Two leather bracelets.

Two dollars

Two bracelets + a Twoonie=Thrift Shop Math

trio of joy

Powder blue, dreamy and creamy. Exactly the same color as Grindley Petalware and you know that has to be a good thing.

I'm pretty sure, well certain actually, that this isn't vintage enamel ware but it is a marvelous big jug that I'll use for flowers and pussy willows and winter branches. Perhaps the bowl will go camping and live on as a dish pan.

I found this truly vintage, enamel ware jug years ago. I love the lines.

Then, a few years ago, I gasped and pounced on this jug at a thrift store. Good grief, it's green. Lovely, lovely Petalware green.

This blue jug is clearly a close relative. They were destined to be happily reunited. I do what I can.

Isn't this a trio of joy?

logo for life

Have you ever noticed that loving someone alters how you see everything around you. You are drawn like a magnet to all that reminds you of them. That is heady stuff if they are close and constant, but if they are far away it feels a lot like grief.
I remember when my daughter was away at school for a year. Far away. I couldn't bear to watch the TV shows she had loved. I couldn't cook her favorite meals.
There just seemed to be so much that reminded me of her, or the lack of her.
She has children of her own now, and I find myself just as smitten by them.
What they love becomes dear to me for their sake.
My little granddaughter loves hearts. Almost every art project is adorned with hearts, drawn in her own distinctive backwards loopy heart-ish way.
I've never been fond of hearts. Perhaps the heart happy eighties with country hearts stamped on walls and whittled out of wood are to blame.
It is strange then that I have felt a growing affection for heart shaped things. It is like recognizing my little granddaughter's signature, her logo for life.
Her love of hearts truly says something about her nature. She loves. Generously, with all her heart.

I love wooden things (because my Grandma did) and when I saw this necklace, wooden AND heart shaped, I happily pounced on it. I am imagining it restrung with gauzy pink ribbon.( my granddaughters favorite color)

sold

The souvenirs people wedge into their suitcases and cram into their take on luggage have a way of gravitating to the bottom of toy boxes or end their days languishing on dusty shelves in thrift shops. Treasures have a hard time holding their own it seems.
While foraging at MCC I saw amidst the seashell plaques and toothpick holders, a treasure from Timbuktu or somewhere else equally distant.
This tiny wooden trio.
They were glued with gusto onto a slice of tree limb.
I loved the little house and the trees so Erzgebirge but not on the ugly bit of wood.
Too bad.
They seemed glued on pretty tight too.
Could they be pried off? 

"What do you think?" I asked my sister, handing it over for her appraisal.
There was a fumble and she promptly dropped it on the floor.
Off shot the house.
Sold.

honorable substitution

 You know you are a collector when you have a souvenir from an event that never even happened.
Queen Elizabeth II had an Uncle Edward. He was christened Edward Albert Christian George Andrew Patrick David but everyone just called him Prince Edward.
He would have been King when his father died.
People expected him to be King when his father died.
And he was King ever so briefly.
So briefly that his coronation never took place.
If it had, this mug was ready.
It would have been a lovely souvenir of an important royal event.
Instead, Edward abdicated and moved to France. His politics and his romance were at odds.
His younger brother Albert became the King. He didn't have as many names as his big brother. Just Albert Frederick Arthur George. But then, no one had expected him to be King. He chose to be known as King George VI and was a very loved monarch.
When I was a girl, children still sang God Save the Queen every morning in school after raising the flag, but our song books were so old that they still had God Save the King printed out and we had to make the necessary substitution. The respectful and honorable substitution.
Just like King George VI had to do.

the line

Oh dear. I think I have crossed an invisible line.
No warning lights flashed and no gong sounded so I wandered into the danger zone and stepped over the line.
Actually, I'm pretty sure that the line is so far behind me now that I can actually act as a warning device myself. You know what they say, 'If you can't be a good example, be a horrible warning.'
Well here I am, horrible but happy.

It started with a simple first step.
It always does of course.
I was given a nativity set by my sister as a Christmas gift.
She painted it herself in ceramics class back when that was the craft of the year.
I've had it almost as long as I've been married.
When my girls hit their teens, I bought them a nativity set each year for several years.
I didn't realize then that this was a second step, skidding me perilously close to the line.
I was given a second nativity and eventually a third and my fate was sealed.
If you have one nativity, you are just observing Christmas.
If you have two, you are just getting into the spirit of the seaon.
But if you have three, it becomes official. You have a collection.
And of course, once you achieve that status, it is important to maintain it by collecting.
But there is a line.
It always seemed way out there somewhere in the blue until recently.
And now I have crossed it.
I am no longer just a casual collector of Nativity sets.
I am drawn to them and they to me.
I would be wise to avoid the Seasonal area of thrift shops or as my husband would urge, thrift shops in general.
Perhaps it is not too late.
I can just barely see the line still and if I double back, I might be able to cross to the other side again.
The sensible side.
The sane and safe side.
Or not.

Made in Japan, and vintage just like me.

 Very tiny plastic set made in Hong Kong long ago.

Hand carved and very small. Does small count?

not bad

If you enjoy thrift shops like I do, I'm betting that you have a route inside the store; a certain path you travel as you forage. It could be traced on a floor plan, so predictable are your steps.
My last stop is usually the 'seasonal' area. It is Christmas all year long there, and Easter and Valentines Day too for that matter. I have pounced on some amazing vintage finds there.
Yesterday as I wandered past ragged wreaths and ceramic villages, I spotted a small bag of figurines.
I picked it up and squinted.
Why do I leave the house without my reading glasses?
Treasures and junk alike are lumped into bags at thrift stores.
It can be hard to tell what you are really getting.
One bag looked like it held a complete nativity.
I peered and pondered.
It looked old.
I like old.
Then I spotted a second bag.
It bulged with sheep and camels.
And underneath that bag was another filled with angels, and another....
Fifty cents is one of my favourite prices.
And nativities are one of my favourite finds.
I hastened to the till.
In the bright light of the parking lot, I could clearly see that the figurines were made in Italy.
A price sticker remaining inside one of the wisemen showed the pieces came from Woolworths.
Not bad for a person shopping by braille.

silent stars

"Do you think it's all there?" I asked, fingering the tattered box.
"Oh, I'm sure it is," she said, nodding decisively.
The box was taped shut with two kinds of tape and had elastic bands securing it too, a sort of thrifter's Fort Knox.
I hesitated and then took a leap of faith.

When I was a little girl we had a wonderful lithographed cardboard nativity. It came folded in a box and could be set up, magically it seemed, into the entire Christmas story. There was a hole in the roof behind the cardboard star for a wandering light bulb from the Christmas tree which worked perfectly because we set our Bethlehem story up under the tree.

I've always wished I had a nativity like that.
I've kept my eye out for one over the years but have never been in the right place at the right time.
Until yesterday.
And there it was.
It seemed too good to be true.
Surely pieces would be missing or damaged.
I hastened home.
I placed the box gently on my dining table.
I unstretched the elastic bands.
I eased off the tape.
Both kinds.
I lifted the lid.
Oh goodness.
There it was.
It looked pristine, the colors fresh and bright.
Reverently, I removed piece after piece after piece after... wait...
what?
Was it possible?
Yes.
Yes, there were two sets. Two complete sets.
Well, not quite complete. One set was missing the star and one stand-up litho'd piece, a problem easily solved with a color photocopier I bet.
Oh little town of Bethlehem how still we see thee lie.
Above thy deep and dreamless sleep the silent stars go by.

thing of beauty

A wooden bangle and a wooden cuff bracelet, both lucky thrift shop finds.

There's just something about wood. It's so smoothly patterned, so warmly colored.

'A thing of beauty is a joy forever.'

all over

The Annual Fall Visit of my sisters always includes our annual fall forage at local thrift shops. This wooden bowl has my mothers name all over it.

A cedar bowl, spun into life on a lathe. And it has a lid!

It was the perfect place to put the leather crocus broach.

And not a bad place to display the vintage hankies.