Click image to enlarge.-
I failed to mention that I took a few things to the antique dealer the other day. Most were nondescript things, but I do wish I'd thought to take a photo of a lamp I took. I'd made it from one of the old stand-up Dazey churns that had the galvanized container and paddles missing. I jammed the gears with a couple nails, so the crank wouldn't turn, then ran a threaded lamp tube upward from where the paddle once fastened and hung downward. With a harp and switch on top, I connected a lamp cord and had a lamp! I spray-painted the whole thing black, got a rustic shade for it, put a small board where the bottom of the container once sat and it was complete. I used it on an end table both as a lamp, and as a place to store magazines (in the space where the container once sat). I used it for years but when the switch needed replaced, my wife decided that it was time to get something more civilized. Now a $300 stoneware lamp sits in its place. The rusty old churn from which I'd made the lamp had come from the chicken house of a sweet little old widow-lady on my feed-truck route at Mount Alto, West Virginia, many years ago.
I DID remember to get a photo of what I took today. You can see it above. At the front left is a photo from the early 1900's of a sawmill and log yard. It could be in this state, but I think it was actually in Washington state, as a relative from here moved there at the time and worked in timber. Next is a big "family" Bible with no writing in it. I think it belonged to my maiden aunt who lived in DC. Behind that is my maternal great-grandmother's cookie jar (actually a crock, I suppose). It has a big crack, and the lid is horribly chipped, but the chip is in the crock, so a person with talent could repair it to some degree. The Osh-Kosh thermometer used to be on the back porch of the old Civil War-Era farmhouse where I was raised, and the Red Seal Battery model hung in the dog-trot between the kitchen door and the old milk-house turned garage. Above them is a piece of shipping crate with the words "Honest Scrap Tobacco" printed on it. The stoneware canning jar was painted with a western scene by a local lady artist for my paternal grandmother (sometime in the 50's, probably).
I don't exactly like parting with some of my stuff, but we still live in too much of a clutter, we have no heirs who are interested in the stuff, and selling a little bit along not only lessens the clutter, it also provides us with gas, milk and fast-food money. We joked with my stepson the other day and told him that when we croaked, the only things we wanted to leave behind were our beds and the television. We have to keep working at it, though, if we're gonna "git 'er done!" © 2016