I didn't know whether to post this in Too or in Nana's View as this is a subject that is just innate in me.
Saving, reusing, recycling, repurposing.
I am pretty darn sure this obsession developed in my core and my soul as a child raised by parents who had, not so long ago, survived The Great Depression.
In my youth, nothing was wasted. Food scraps were fed to the dogs and cats. Breakfast, lunch and dinner were eaten.
Vegetable peelings were put back in the garden to enrich the soil. "Gray" water (dish water especially) was carried outside to flowers and gardens during the dry years. And excuse me if this is just too much information but little girls were taught that you only used toilet paper for #2 and otherwise don't wipe and don't flush. Please remember this is just one step from the Out House . . . and during the dry years of the 1950s.
Sometimes adult coats and clothing were cut down and remade into children's clothes. Before my time but still within my memory, fabric Feed Sacks were collected and made into little girls' dresses and dish towels and pillow cases. I have an old small table cloth, maybe a child's table cloth bought at a sale, made from a feed sack.
Bed sheets were 'turned'. When the sheets wore thin in the middle, they were cut into, the long way. The 'good' outside edges were 'turned' in and sewn back together so as to get more use from the less worn fabric. Socks were darned and shoes and boots went to the Shoe Repair for new heels and patches.
I really like my old medicine cabinet. Reclaimed and re-loved.
Next time down, check out the toothbrush holders inside.
I'm enjoying my reclaimed towel holders and knobs and barn barns.
This reclaimed saw horse has a couple of stories. I dragged it out of the burn pile below the dam. It was the tallest and sturdiest saw horse I ever did meet and I'd met a few that were 'Dadbuilt". This horse was partly burned up. I hauled it home and it sat out back of the cabin for six months or so then a couple of weeks ago, Himself and I determined to replace the worst of the burned parts.
If we had made video and put it on You Tube it probably would have gone viral. It was a knock out, drag out fight. We beat off the burned boards and pulled out about 80 old nails and screws. We cut new boards and fit them. Wrestling that thing all over the front porch, we recut boards again. Sometimes the saw horse was on top yelling 'say Uncle!' and then we'd roll it over and bash it here and there with a hammer and regain control. Or so we thought. At least Himself and I could 'tag team' but it took the both of us to bring that horse into submission let me tell you.
We measured and gauged it more than twice. And then re-measured and recut again. And after all that the legs weren't equal lengths! It wobbled! But for now . . .
It stands on all fours.
It is functional.
It is a story of trial and error and success!
Now this little stepstool . . . this sweet little stepstool has a story to tell.
If only Wood could talk.
The sign on it in the Second Hand Store said "very old stool".
And it is. Very old. Well part of it is very old. The four legs and rungs are very old and the legs are very graceful. If what I can determine is correct, the legs once graced and upheld a child's chair. A Quality Child's Chair.
But now, the step and the seat are plywood. Yes, they are made of OLD plywood . . . but plywood none the less.
Someone took the legs and mechanism off of an old child's chair and rebuilt it using material on hand. i.e. plywood. That someone who would probably be near and dear to my heart if only I knew who. Oh wait, it might have been one of my poor Missouri cousins back around 1900!
No matter, I'm glad I stumbled across it and rescued it. And Himself didn't even really yell at me.
