Stuff

Sometimes, I feel like my stuff is a ball and chain. We have a beautiful home and lots of wonderful things from our families, as well as art, made and collected. The kitchen is full of esoteric equipment for the preparation of exotic food. Orchids, specimen plants and pots of herbs, boxwoods, hostas, elephant ears and heirloom graining fill the garden. Ours is a city house with a small front yard and a lovely oasis of a back garden, with a pond and carriage house porch. The carriage house porch has a swing and chairs and a table full of games and reading material for summer evenings.

Talk about stuff. The second floor of the carriage house stores my husband's growing habit of exterior Christmas lights and decorations (we've been tasteful long enough!) and detrius from each of our four children's childhoods and more. Blended now 12 years, we still each have boxes of stuff from former lives, and I have several looms, a spinning wheel and lots of weaving equipment that I might need, should Joe go on an odyssey, or if there's ever a grandbaby that needs a very special blankie.

My son McKendree is living at home after graduating from college. Yesterday, he began cleaning out a closet that has for years been a repository for everyone's castoffs. As a result, he lacked sufficient space for his career clothes. Scuba gear, trashbags of shoes, boxes of who knows what, all those suitcases that need to be stored somewhere. Shoe racks, down comforters, a spare dresser. Things you might need someday. Two of our daughters have been in retail, and that exponentially increases the volume of clothing that we have.

At this point, McKendree is ahead of me. My summer and winter clothes are all mixed together, since the few closets in this 105 year old house are crammed with bridesmaid's dresses, out of season clothes belonging to people not even living here, and quite a few extraordinary creations that will come in handy for Halloween, Mardi Gras, a Beaux Arts Ball or some other go to hell event.

Mama says that throwing things out is an act of faith, that more will come your way if you need it. I like her spiritual philosophy on cleaning. And she really lives it. Her closet has room between each garment, and I don't' think I've ever heard her mourn the loss of anything she's pitched. I keep thinking it might come back into fashion, but could I find it? Surely this posting will give me the extra push to dive into the chaos. Just don't let me put it all neatly in Rubbermaid containers. That's not the point.

This is Sad

My new blog. I just wrote a lovely piece about my garden, but can't seem to find it. It didn't make it to the blog and is somehow lost in the drafts folder. I'm posting this so I have something up. But it's too pretty to stay inside any longer.