A few weeks ago the snow started to melt and I was eager to hit the road, garage sale season was upon us.
I jumped in the truck and flew down the street to a garage sale I knew was happening from signage I saw posted earlier in the week at four way stops in my village.
I arrived at the sale and it wasn’t long until I purchased some light bulbs, a neat vintage medicine cabinet for $4 and other household goods I found in the homeowners garage and on the driveway.
As I went to leave I paused instantly as my eyes were fixated on a shelf hidden on the front porch behind some other “SOLD” furniture.
I asked the gentlemen if the shelf was for sale, he said I could have it for free and it came from an early 1900’s farm house that was once inhabited across the street. You could imagine how quickly my curiosity face was replaced by an ear to ear smile. The shelf made it home and it wasn’t long until I found it a free table friend (three days later on garbage day) from a different farm house on the same street.
I always think to myself, if an item were shown in only a black and white photo would it still be beautiful? Could you still see the craftsmanship and guess the age of the piece?
I really gravitated to the shelf and this little table because the lines were not only incredible but they both brought me back to a moment in time where the hand would touch the piece of wood and beauty was defined not by machinery perfection but by an imperfection of authenticity here or there.
When was the last time you laid eyes in something that made you see it’s beauty in black and white?