I’m a big fan of using what I have, don’t get me wrong, I’ll buy if I really want something, but Christmas is a wonderful time to incorporate old things, things that may not exactly “go” with my current style, or things that in another life were garish (and probably still are), but who really cares?? It’s Christmas! And so it was with Mr B’s star tree topper. It cost a whopping 53¢ in its day, in the 1970’s. He remembers it as being the first ornament he picked out on his own and purchased. That first year of dating bliss, our first Christmas together was spent visiting one another’s homes and honestly the only stars I saw that year were the ones he put in my eyes. I never noticed the 53¢ tree topper.
I DID notice it the second Christmas, the year we moved in together and began blending our things (read, I packed up most of his hideous decor as soon as my boxes were unpacked. (I had empty boxes…..I mean, come on…..couldn’t waste those, right???) I set about the task of making his home, our home. Christmas came and we began decorating the house. Out came our boxes of Christmas ornaments. The lights went on the tree and we had fun hanging all our different ornies, laughing at some of our crazy old ones. And then it was time for the topper and he pulled that star out of its shabby package, the original package I might add, with the price clearly marked. My beloved Christmas angel, the one that belonged to my Grams and featured in a previous post, was in danger once again of being replaced by something modern. CHEEZITS! No way. Nuh uh, not ever again. So we compromised. He still had children who lived with him ( and eventually became mine as well) and it was important to continue their traditions in a time of change. So I put my angel on a small tree decorated with my family memories and we proudly installed Mr B’s star (OK, one of us was proud, the other not so much, I’ll leave it up to you to decide who was, and who wasn’t in the proud corner). I disliked that star immensely. I decided immediately it was tacky. But I was in a new relationship and had already packed up lots of his things so I didn’t rock the Christmas boat. I swore an oath that the next Christmas my angel was goin up on the big tree. Yep. No doubt.
Well, the next year and the year after that and maybe even the following year that stupid star graced the top of our main tree. Along with colored lights. ugh. Because our daughter loved them. Yes, she officially became my daughter too, after a holiday wedding, and I also gained a second son. WOOT! But I adored white lights. So we compromised again. And went with colored lights. (Clearly I hadn’t mastered the art of the compromise thing.) It was OK though. More than OK, we were a family. It was Christmas. The tree looked beautiful, albeit with colored lights and that 53¢ star. We kept the colored lights until the daughter graduated high school and went off to college. Numbers 1 and 2 sons were out on their own. I finally got my tree with white lights and when it came time to put the topper on the first year as empty nesters, Mr B stood quietly beside our glorious tree with the star in his hand. And something happened. I suddenly didn’t hate that star. I actually liked it….. in all its tacky glory. So up on the top it went. And that star remained as the topper for all the years our “big” tree stood in the family room. My angel? She adorned a smaller tree in the living room, the first room you see when you enter our home. All was well in the Brown home. Harmony and Peace.
Harmony and Peace still reign in our home. The angel tops the main tree in our tiny living room. The family room is now home to a small tree, purchased to showcase the Hallmark ornaments I’ve collected for years. There are none on the tree. Because… well……that’s a story for another time. But the 53¢ star? It’s on that little tree, loud and proud. It doesn’t really fit. It sits way up on top and that tip is too thick to cut. So just under it is the ribbon from my wedding bouquet to hide the bare spot. I love that star. It isn’t Christmas without it. It’s a glorious star. 53¢ well spent if you ask me. No more compromise. I’m firmly in the proud corner with Mr B.
Some of you have been with me since the beginning of this blog journey. And a few of you have requested the reprint of the Christmas Stocking again this year. Thank you for that. So for my old friends who have read it, enjoyed it and want to read it again, and the new ones who have not read this story, welcome. And thank you from the bottom of my heart for your support. Christmas stories seem to resonate with everyone, tales of joy and hope, stories of fun and disaster, of love and tradition, of love found, and love lost. I hope this one resonates with you.
Every family has traditions. Things that are done the same way, year after year. Things that are counted on. Traditions provide a foundation and a feeling of coming home. Of safety. And happiness. Of continuity. Maybe it’s the way the mantel is decorated. Or the ornaments remain the same each year. Or it’s the cookies that Grandma always made, still being made long after Grandma is gone. Or perhaps it’s lasagna for Christmas dinner. But what if a Tradition doesn’t “fit” anymore? Becomes too expensive, too “big” or too difficult? Is it OK to change a tradition?
In my case, our tradition was Christmas Stockings. I was a single mother. I didn’t always have enough money to buy a tree. I sometimes put red ribbon bows and candy canes on a Ficus and called it “Our Charley Brown” tree. But the one thing I had without fail was Christmas stockings. Mine rarely had anything in it. It was more for show. But I always made sure my son’s was stuffed with fun things. Matchbox cars when he was young. Bubbles. New crayons. And a new ornament. (which remains a tradition). As I’m sure all kids do, he begged to open his gifts on Christmas Eve. He was filled with excitement, his eyes big at the sight of boxes wrapped and piled under the tree. He almost vibrated with expectation. I had a rule, no gift opening til Christmas morning. Despite the groans and moans and the, “Please, Mommie?” I stuck to that rule. Except. (You knew there was going to be an “except”, didn’t you??) OK, ONE gift on Christmas Eve and we’d get our Christmas stockings to see what was in them. He was well past the age of believing in Santa so there was no fake story about the fat one coming early. Those stockings became our “thing.” I put a lot of time and energy and money in being creative as he got older. The gifts became more elaborate and more expensive. Gift cards to favorite restaurants or to the zoo or some outing to do together. Always a new ornament. And candy. And then the teen years hit. So there was after shave and young man things. I think he loved digging in the stocking more than anything else about Christmas.
Enter a marriage and instant siblings. The stocking tradition continued well into adulthood. I was rapidly spending the bulk of our Christmas budget stuffing those stockings. So one year, I decided to go another route. This was the year the whole family was going to be together. All the siblings. My husband was home (He frequently traveled on holidays), the Grandchildren were here. It was a perfect time to introduce a new tradition. I made gift bags. BAGS. I thought I was being clever. I could put larger gifts inside, the bags held more. Brilliant. Not so fast, Christmas Mom.
My son walked into the family room and saw no stockings hung by the chimney with care. In fact there were no stockings to be seen! He promptly grabbed my attention by quietly bellowing, “WHERE ARE THE STOCKINGS????” “WE DON’T HAVE STOCKINGS??” I saw him looking frantically around the room, searching for his stocking. By this time, the rest of the group became restless and I could hear murmurings……“Did Mom forget the stockings?” “Is Mom OK?” “What’s going on?” You know, concerned that I’d had some sort of mental lapse. Which, as it turns out I did. What was I thinking? I explained that this year I didn’t do stockings, I did gift bags!!! Woot! There were no return Woots. My son, drew himself up to his full height, and announced to no one in particular, “This is unacceptable. UNACCEPTABLE”. (In case I didn’t hear him the first time.) “What do you mean, gift bags?? GIFT BAGS??“ And he stomped off. OK, maybe not stomped exactly. But very firmly put one very large foot in front of the other and left the room. Dead silence. I stood for a few seconds, in a mental hamster-on-a-wheel moment, searching my brain for a solution to this calamity. Did I have time to get the stockings from the attic, stuff them, bring them out later, and yell, “SURPRISE! ONLY KIDDING, HERE ARE YOUR STUPID STOCKINGS!” Nope, not happening.
I honestly didn’t consider his reaction. I should have known. We’d moved around quite a bit when he was young and he hung on to things that were familiar. I suddenly realized the stocking meant more than just stuff for fun, it was one of his few remaining touchstones, a symbol that while everything else in his life had changed, this one thing, his Christmas stocking remained. We went on with Christmas that day, it was filled with fun and great food, music, the kids tussling, me yelling, “Take it outside!” and “Don’t slam the door!” The Grandkids overwhelmed with gifts and too many cookies, protesting the taking of pictures, hanging out with their beloved Aunts and Uncles and the rest of us.
It was a great, big, typical, noisy, messy holiday. And I loved it. I was the subject of affectionate scorn from every.single.member.of.my.family. In good fun, and it would become another family joke, told the next year and the year after that. My son, that sweet, goofy, big-hearted prankster, never let me forget. He continued to shoot me the stink eye all day, (accompanied by his grin, but the stink eye nonetheless), and I could hear him muttering in my direction all weekend long. I couldn’t hear all of it, but I caught enough of, “Unacceptable, and “For petes sake” and there was the odd eye roll. (Learned from his Bonus Dad). Whatever. I got it. I got it already! Stockings were hung by the chimney with care every year after that. Stuffed to the tops, overflowing. Bonus. There were also gift bags for the things that were too large for the stockings.
My son was killed in an accident three years after that Christmas. I don’t do stockings anymore. Except his. His stocking is hung every year. His last, and favorite Hallmark ornament, a Mustang, hangs from it. A little stuffed reindeer we got from McDonalds during his teen years is in it. It now hangs on the door to the room he stayed in whenever he came home. That stocking means more now than ever. It doesn’t hold gifts anymore, it holds memories. Years of memories. It is overflowing.
Hi my friends, I hope you are well and happy and remaining sane in this very crazy world. Today’s post is about my recent find, is it real or reproduction? I hope you’ll stick around to learn if I scored a vintage find or am happy with a nice, but common piece of decor.
In the world of collecting, there is always a debate about authentic vintage vs reproduction. Some collectors would eat their own feet rather than buy anything reproduction. After Modern Farmhouse hit the big time in popularity there was a big push by many big box stores to offer farmhouse decor. Normally this signals the death of a style… Just like any style, there are changes over time, and as soon as a style becomes over-used, just about the time it hits the big box stores, that’s when you’ll see it begin to fade away. The one constant has always been country style. Country design has remained strong for decades and is still one of the most popular styles all over the world. “Modern” Farmhouse is presently the reigning iteration of country style, but heads up! We’re beginning to see some changes…. more on that in upcoming posts.
There’s nothing wrong with buying new. Cute, new decor has its place. What it doesn’t have is age or history or character. A house filled with nothing but cute, new things often feels flat, and for sure will look like thousands of other homes decorated with identical things. I always suggest adding some pieces with age. You don’t need to live in a museum, or a “Cracker Barrel House,” however, adding a few old things adds interest and texture, and helps tell the history of your family.
Do I always buy vintage? The majority of my decor is authentically old, if I see something reproduction I really like, I won’t eat my feet…. If it adds to the story of my home I’ll buy it. The fact that some of my things have been around for a couple hundred years is gratifying…. to me…. Mr B could care less. He’s all about function. He does have things from his family that have been passed down, but truth? I’m the one that encourages him to display them, he’d be just as happy without them. “Things” don’t make him happy. Sometimes I wish I had his attitude. I wasn’t born that way. I love my things, I just like ’em old. I’m a keeper of history. I don’t want to live in a museum, or a Cracker Barrel House but I also don’t want to live in a Rooms To Go home, where everything is all shiny and new, and horrors!! matchy matchy! That might cause me to nibble on my feet a bit. Kidding… Maybe…..
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For the record, I don’t look down on, nor criticize anyone for the age of things they choose to put in their home. I prefer vintage. It’s a personal choice that suits me and my love of old things. Your home should suit you and reflect YOUR choices. As always, there are exceptions. My exception is holiday and seasonal decor, I buy both vintage and new…. and hope Mr B doesn’t notice another bin in the attic when it’s time to bring it all down.
Like most everywhere the pandemic put a big damper on going out. Small businesses were closed for months. Restrictions have finally loosened up a bit here, and I took the opportunity to go to my favorite little shop a couple of times. Both times I left with treasures. Once with a charming (to me) stoneware pitcher, and the last trip I left with a vintage book and an amber canning jar. I’d never seen a vintage amber canning jar, I didn’t know if there was such a thing. It was priced at $12.00 and that indicated it wasn’t old or highly collectable. I bought it because I love my brown and amber bottles for fall and winter and don’t really care if they are old. I consider them seasonal and their age doesn’t matter. Of course I Googled Amber canning jar as soon as I got home.
Turns out there IS such a thing! There are also reproductions. The Putnam Company manufactured the Trademark Lightning canning jars in the 1880’s. Taiwan introduced its reproduction jars in 1986. Both Amazon and Target sell amber canning jars with screw tops. Vintage amber jars don’t have screw tops, so that was my first clue that I might have found something unique. If you just want decor and don’t give two hoots whether your jar is old or not, by all means order the new ones. I probably will….. but I was really curious about the jar I purchased for $12.00. Was it vintage? Or a good repro?
Let’s take a look at the evidence; all vintage Putnam Jars have the following:
Ground lips (the ridge/edge on the lid.)
Metal collar with hole for the bail wire
The lids are embossed with Pat’d Apr 25, 82
The side seams extend underneath the bottles for about an inch
The wire bale around the neck of the jar has multiple twists
The top of the lid has 2 knobs to hold the wire in place
The bottom of the jar is embossed with Putnam and a mold number other than 227….
(although there were some real 227’s there’s another list of identifiers for that)
Does my jar have all these identifiers? Do I have a treasure? I looked closely….. and the verdict is……… YASSSS! Boys and Girls! I have an authentic Trademark Lightning Canning Jar!!! Eureka! Gadzooks! This is the Bomb Diggity!!! And for $12.00! The least expensive one I could find on-line is $99.00, and some are priced at $250.00!!!! It also had other indications not listed here that confirmed the age this old jar, so I am confident I have the real deal.
You know what??? It doesn’t really matter. I bought it because I liked it. I bought it for Fall and Winter. I don’t give a rat’s patootie if someone is asking an absurd amount of money for one….. But I AM PROUD to be the latest caretaker of this piece of kitchen history. I can tell this jar has seen a long life. I can’t help but wonder how many women used this to put up veggies and fruit for their families. I wonder how it survived all these years…. The fact that it’s a bit high on the rare find scale means I will care for it more carefully so that a future collector can sigh over having one. It’s no longer just a seasonal piece of decor, stored out of sight with Christmas and seasonal stuff …. it will be displayed proudly with my other, priceless, to me, objets de crap.
(the term, objets de crap attributed to my friend Christine Rogers)
You never know what you will find when entering a thrift or antique store. Treasures and junk are shoulder to shoulder just waiting for the right person to come along and take them home… As always, I leave you with this thought: Your home is YOURS, tell your story in it, not the story of someone else. Add some things with history…. or not. It’s your choice.
Create your sanctuary, one room at a time, no matter where you live.
Create the home that speaks to your heart.
When it comes to creating a home, one of the most important ways to personalize a space and really make it your own is by including artwork. There’s really no right or wrong kind of art, nor boundaries according to style. If you like a painting, drawing or sculpture, if it speaks to you in some way, then add it to your home. If you love an abstract painting but live in a country style home, there’s no rule that says you can’t hang it as a focal point. Conversely, if you live in a modern space but fall in love with a watercolor of a rustic barn, hang it in a prominent place. The contrast between the two styles adds energy and personality.
That said, I’m fond of using personal photographs that I’ve enlarged and framed. But that doesn’t mean you must take your own photos to add art in your home. Frame your kids’ art. Give a concert poster pride of place, shadow box mementos, hang a Christening Dress or the veil from your wedding. If you’re into more traditional style art, look at Etsy for inspiration. You’ll find photographs, pencil and charcoal drawings, watercolors, oil paintings, or vintage artwork on the subject of your choice….. Art.com is another great source for inexpensive art. Whatever it is, choose a subject that has personal meaning to you.
For this post, I’m focusing on personal photos. I chose to edit, enlarge and frame 3 of my covered bridge photos from the last trip Mr B and I took to Indiana. I used the same edits for each one so that they would appear to be a series and I love them so much! I’ve always had a thing for covered bridges. My grandmother did as well, and whenever I look at these pictures, I not only think of our trip, but I’m flooded with memories of my beloved Grams.
I edited and enlarged vintage pictures of ancestors for a family history wall…. for that project I wanted a consistent look and size, so all those got the same basic edits and color change and were enlarged to 8 x 10. It was as simple as scanning them into my computer, editing, uploading to Walmart Photo and ordering enlargements. Not gonna lie. Walmart is my go-to for inexpensive prints, enlargements, and poster sized prints. (They also do canvas prints) Bonus: If you’re impatient like me they offer same day printing for enlargements, even poster sizes.
You’ll need a photo editing program. Most computers come with some basic editing software, and CVS, Walgreens and Walmart have a few basic edits as part of their photo printing. None of these gave me all the options I wanted so I started searching for an editing program. I’m not technology oriented and a program needs to be VERY user friendly. After some Google searching and reading reviews, I chose PicMonkey. There are quite a few photo editing programs out there, so plan to do a bit of research, sample a few and choose one that fits both your skill level and price point. Adobe proved too much for me, so PicMonkey to the rescue. You can try it for a week free in the basic PicMonkey program and then choose one of the paid options. I also use the PicMonkey app on my Android to edit photos to share on Instagram. Trust me, if I can use it, so can you!
I had two of my favorite pictures printed on canvas. If you’ve followed me for awhile you’ve seen the large canvas (24 x 36) of Oscar in previous posts. He usually hangs in the place of honor over my fireplace during most of the year ….. Because who doesn’t want a giant dog head over the mantel?? That was my first attempt at creating my own art and I didn’t know much about photo editing programs then. In fact there wasn’t really any editing done at all, except for changing the color to sepia. But I started with a sharp, well focused picture and it didn’t lose detail when enlarged. I got lucky and that success led me to trying other projects. Pictures printed on canvas can be ordered on-line through a number of sources, Walmart and CVS are the two I’ve used. Art.com now offers a personal photograph framing and canvas printing option. Stretched canvas prints cost a bit more, but you don’t need a frame…. all things considered, a canvas print is an inexpensive way to create personal artwork for your home.
Enlarging any photo runs the risk of losing fine details, especially with vintage pictures. Ironically the pictures from the late 1800’s to early 1900’s have worked out really well for me. It’s the ones from the 50’s, 60’s and 70’s I’ve had trouble with. I frequently get an error message alerting me to the fact that my image isn’t suitable for enlarging to the size I want. I throw caution to the wind and order it in several sizes, along with a big poster print so that I can see just how it will look. That way I know before spending the money on a large canvas if the image will be worth it and if the edits I’ve made give me the look I want.
The original photo below earned that “not suitable for enlargement” error message, but I did my edits, crossed my fingers and ordered it in 8 x 10, 11 x 14 and 20 x 30 figuring that I’d maybe get one or two that were suitable. I also did a few different color variations in shades of sepia and black and white. All were keepers and I’m thrilled with the results! From approximately 5 x 7 to the 20 x 30 print makes this a treasure to me. It will hang in the living room again once Oscar’s canvas goes back above the fireplace in the fall. I plan to have this printed on canvas as well. I’m on the hunt for a chunky vintage frame to give it a bit of extra oomph. And the extras I’ll share with other family members.
One more for the road: My Great Grandmother.
There are other photos I’ve edited and enlarged, and framed, but you get the idea. Experiment with color, contrast, brightness, etc., and don’t be afraid to crop.
Last tip, buy vintage frames for your edited photos to up the style factor and give them more visual importance. If the frame isn’t a standard size, order your print large enough that you can cut it down without losing the person, place or thing you want to emphasize. Or just order a canvas print, no frame required. Make your home come alive with personal art. Who needs a Picasso?
And remember; you can create your very own sanctuary. Love the home you’re in and create the home you see in your heart.
Just before the pandemic hit with a giant fist, I became fascinated with Mud Cloth. It’s another one of those things I now love that had escaped my attention. How is that possible??? Mud Cloth has been around since the 12th century for cryin out loud! It’s been featured on fashion runways, from mini skirts to jackets, and for the home; made into pillows, runners, napkins, coasters, used as rugs and for furniture upholstery. How did this escape my notice? Me, the lover of textiles? I don’t know, nor really care, I’m just happy to have found it.
My love affair began without fanfare a few years ago. I’m always searching for affordable european grain sacks and/or fabric. I love its nubby feel, the differences in the weave, thickness and softness, the history. All of it. While browsing at a booth during one of our area’s flea markets, I stumbled upon a white pillow made from coarse fabric, and appeared to be made from strips of cloth sewn together. I knew it wasn’t hemp or flax linen, the traditional grain sack material, but it was beautiful to me and I was instantly smitten. When asked, the vendor said she didn’t have another and couldn’t remember where she’d found this one. Disappointed in not learning the origin of the pillow, I paid $20.00 ( a great price!) and wandered through all the other booths, hoping to find another pillow or fabric. None could be found. Every year, every flea after that I searched for the fabric but was always disappointed.
Fast forward to February of 2020 and the Renningers Extravaganza, one of 3 large flea markets held each year in Mt Dora, Florida. Renningers Market is open all year in the 3 indoor climate controlled buildings, every 3rd weekend of the month it adds outdoor vendors, and opens its permanent cottages in addition to the 3 main buildings, BUT 3 times a year all the acreage is open and there are hundreds of booths. It’s a vintage lover’s paradise. I was just a few booths in when I saw a bed covering hanging from a makeshift rod under an oak tree. I couldn’t believe my eyes! It was my cloth!! Not only that but there were piles of it! Eureka, gadzooks and ring the bell! I’d hit the Mother Lode.
I saw several stacks of cloth in various sizes and colors, a few were the solid white of my pillow, but most had geometric designs. Some pieces were small and suitable for making throw pillows, or table runners, and there were tables that held piles of sizes from approximately 4 x 6 feet to 8 x 10. Larger pieces had been sewn into coverings for beds in standard sizes. The full sized coverlet I’d admired was tagged at $225.00. I admired it but passed.
I soon found 3 other booths offering the cloth and finally stopped to speak to a vendor. He told me it was Mud Cloth, he was from New York and imported his fabrics from Africa. It was the first time he and the other vendors, all friends of his, had set up at Mt Dora. They have regular booths at the Brooklyn Flea, and decided to expand and try some other regional markets. I bought a white on black piece, left behind a more intricate brown, black and white patterned one (regretted that as soon as I got home) and went on with my shopping.
I made it a point to learn about Mud Cloth. It’s been around since the 12th Century. It’s origin is Mali, West Africa and is part of the Malian culture. The name comes from the native language, Bamabra: Bo´go´lanfini, bogo (earth) lan (with) fini (cloth) or “Mud Cloth.” It’s worn by hunters as protection and as a symbol of status. Men traditionally sew strips of hand loomed cotton together and women dye the fabric using fermented river mud.
It’s a long process involving layers of mud collected from different rivers and streams, fermented for a year, layered on the cloth, washed off, layered again and then bleached and dried in the sun. The designs are hand painted, each symbol has a meaning or tells a story. Dye is made from tree leaves, bark and grasses, and once painted, the cloth is dried in the sun for another week, then washed, and dried again.
Mud Cloth is still being produced in Mali, mostly for the tourist trade and now mostly loomed and dyed by men. One theory is that men took it over to free up women for more traditional home duties. (Not sure how I feel about that!)
There are Fair Trade sources, so if you’re looking to purchase on-line, be sure to ask the origin of the cloth and if it is fair trade. It’s important that we shop Fair Trade to keep the money where it belongs…with the people who are involved in creating this labor intensive craft and not big box stores. I found several vendors on Etsy and did purchase another piece there, a black on white, the opposite of the first one purchased at the flea. They’re interchangeable in my rooms since most of my home is now done in whites, blacks and browns. (I wasn’t smart enough to write down the vendor name, nor did I keep the receipt. Insert frowny face). I’m in the process of researching a Fair Trade list of vendors that I hope to share in another post.
If you buy Mud Cloth be aware that since it’s hand dyed with organic materials it’s going to vary in color, no two pieces are alike and it needs to be cared for gently. I was told to swish it gently in a tub with Castile soap, rinse well and hang or spread out to air dry away from direct sunlight to prevent fading. It can be dry cleaned, but some cleaners won’t clean hand made fabrics, so check first. Also wash it alone because hand dyed fabrics may bleed. I think it’s worth the effort however. I love that its nubby feel, rustic look, and heavy weight coordinates well with my grain sacks, adds texture and that unique quality that only one of a kind items have.
Mud Cloth is often used in modern and BoHo design (again how did I not know this??) and there are many products with the Malian symbols reminiscent of Mud Cloth. But this beautiful cloth fits in just as easily in a Modern Farmhouse or Country home. It’s hand made, it’s humble, it’s rich in history….. why wouldn’t we vintage lovin country design folk love it too? My two pieces are being used as throws on my sofas, I’m now also the proud owner of 2 throw pillows. I love the texture they bring and the story they tell. I hope you’ll take a look at this fabric and find ways to use it in your home as well.
Be well, be happy. And remember, You can create your sanctuary no matter where you live. Love the home you’re in.
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