'Scuse me while I go close the skylights in the sunroom;
it just got through to me that it is pouring rain.
|Leaves blow in and get caught on the screening. Looks awful, doesn't it?|
I never claimed to be a MENSA candidate.
Done, and I'm back at my desk.
Watching the ferns fly in the wind.
Watching the ferns fly in the wind.
|Dear Howard: Where DO those extension cords on the metal chair belong?|
Everything outside is wet and toppled over.
These pictures are taken through the drippy sunroom glass.
The poor iris-es . . . they finally bloomed, and they're getting their iris-es kicked by the weather.
There's been a lot of rain, but thankfully Sunday was beautiful.
Clear, a little on the cool side, but a perfect day for this -
a barn auction in a gorgeous gentleman's farm setting.
Howard's carrying the coffee cups; we are ready to bid!
Where's Howard now?
Getting ready to bid on some small vintage chairs.
And we got 'em. Nine country Sheraton-style chairs.
Rush seats. 8 maple. 1 oak. None is identical to any other.
They must have been collected over time.
|Broken rush; we're keeping this one to use ourselves.|
What do they say about the shoemaker's children going barefoot?
5 have seats in excellent shape; they're going to my antiques booth.
4 have holy smokes falling apart rush seats.
We're using them around the old oak table in our sunroom.
|Slat backs, with thumb back posts.|
Yup. Boo-Boos on the seat of this one, but the chair is still
very sturdy and usable. I'll trim and glue the rush,
and make nice ruffled squabs for the seats.
|This one has little black rubber shoes. None of the others has rubber shoes.|
Possibly there's damage beneath that black rubber. I'm ignoring it.
I think the little black feet are kind of adorable. Like tap shoes.
Howard and I had talked - at length - about buying matching chairs
for around the sunroom table. We just didn't think we'd find them
at an auction, and pay $4 apiece for them. Yes, you read that right.
Other auction wins . . . .
For $5, a box full of old silver plated stuff.
Like, a couple of old dog trophies from the 60s that appear to be shrimp servers.
Those Weimaraner folks apparently love their shellfish.
And . . . meat platters, serving trays, serving dishes, and a water pitcher.
Some of these pieces are going to polish up nicely; they'll head for the booth, too.
Others? Not salvageable. I'm going to try painting them.
Never thought I'd do that . . . but there's a first time for everything.
|To the right - Clothes from Goodwill for Anne's latest|
costuming job, a revival of West Side Story.
As the deli man says, "And vat else?"
Among other auction wins - a big lot of brass candlesticks,
a cut crystal lamp, a child-size drop leaf table, a country-style
Windsor bench, a brass tray on a stand, a Chippendale-style hanging shelf,
a box of antique linens - most of them useable! - and this:
a lamp made out of an old water pump, mounted on a piece of barn wood.
Yeah. It's no great beauty, is it? However, it brings back memories
of when my sister and I pumped oceans of water
from Grandma's backyard well to keep her garden in good health
when she took her annual summer visit to Aunt Bertha in Vermont.
I can still hear that distinctive squeak of the pump.
And how Peggy and I were sure that if we filched
a warm ripe tomato off a vine, that Grandma -
across Long Island Sound and many miles north - would know.
Well, I'll clean up this strange old lamp, and
rewire it, and then decide - keep or sell?
It might look good in the sunroom. Hey, you never know.
At least Dylan can't break it when he sneaks up
on the corner table to get a better view out of the windows.
|How our Dylan spends a rainy day. Love the damp curls!|
Well, I have putzed around at the computer long enough.
Time to make myself useful. -- Cass