Cedar shakes, tin roofs and a secret sale

I was in my element last Friday afternoon, exploring the grounds of a 19th century farm getting ready to hold a sale the following day. Wagons were piled high with old textiles and furniture, antique tools and kitchenware, and truly unique pieces that I will likely never see again. (Of course, I forgot to take a picture of the wagons)!

Everything was so well cared for -- oil-polished tools that were no doubt used unfailingly; cut dress patterns folded back inside of envelopes as though they'd never been opened. Some of the items were initialed, inscribed. Mary’s winter boots written neatly on the shoebox of a vintage pair of Clarks. (Yes, they fit me perfectly). 

There was a real sense of purpose and pride of place no matter where you turned. You could see it in the eaves of the settling but sturdy barn, the broom-swept concrete floors of the original farmhouse, the fence posts that had never been left to rot. 

In a large way, I was sorry to see a family's belongings taken out of rooms and buildings because I know that it requires a special kind of person to love each item again as much as they were loved before. I hope that I can be such a person. I hope that I can take as good of care of Mary's winter boots as she did. 

Barefoot beauty

You are your mother's daughter, my dad likes to tell me. Growing up, I used to roll my eyes when he'd say it. I could even anticipate when he was about to say it, and cast him a threatening glare. Now, I'm the one who says it. I beam when people make remarks about how similar we are, even though I know that I will never bake as good of pies, sew as seamless of dresses, or care for others with as boundlessness of heart. 

Last Sunday afternoon my mom and I wandered through the yard in our bare feet, which is still a novelty at this time of year (for this part of Canada, anyhow)! We ended up in the clover field across from the house, and along the way I took a thousand pictures of my beautiful mother. Each of them is true to who she is and yet not one of them will be enough to show you.