Some folks save postcards. Many keep a diary. And yet others save hotel soap. Found at Tin Can Trading Post, one of my favorite thrift/antique shops in Callicoon. The proprietor, Sal Siggia, kindly let me borrow these. I find it so charming that whoever saved these, decided to write on the back of several of the soaps so that they would remember where they were from.
It’s not at all an overstatement to say that great inspiration is to be found in a hardware store. Case in point: this sensational Monarch Furnace Nozzle display. I’ve been admiring this thing for months, if not longer. And the very kind peeps over at Callicoon Supply took the time to remove it from the shelf when asked if I could photograph it. Although there were a couple of raised eyebrows and a mild amount of teasing (Joanne and Howard!). However, I felt vindicated when a customer saw what I was doing and said that he was surprised at how one could see something forever, and yet not really look at it or appreciate it until someone else took the time to view it differently.
A collection of hard working knives owned by our friends Mark and Wendy, both of whom are outstanding cooks. These are the same people who own these brushes. The variation in the size and shape of the blades and handles is, of course, what makes these so remarkable. The fact that they are all razor sharp, and feel good to hold, makes them sublime.
Spotted at the Jeffersonville firehouse. I wonder, why so many?
Unfortunately, there is no sense of scale to this photograph. Take my word for the fact that the wood pile stands at least as tall as myself. If not more. It’s a beautiful site to behold as one moves up the driveway to our house. And, even though this is a familiar form, it’s uncommon for the wood-stackers among us to deviate from tradition. My husband — sometimes a quiet renegade — is responsible for this totem to his hand split logs.
The other day I caught my husband looking through the photos on his phone. Peering over his shoulder, I saw these two. They were taken upstate a couple of weekends ago. It was very very hot that Saturday, but then the clouds and storms rolled in to cool things off.
For a lot of people across the country, Walmart is pretty much the only gig in town. And, if you’re in a rural area and happen to need kraft paper and packing tape at 7:30 in the morning, it’s almost certainly the case. I try to avoid shopping there, but sometimes it seems unavoidable. This is how I ended up at the local Superstore last week. Since it was so early, I was almost entirely alone. After I found what I was looking for (if you’ve been to a Walmart, you know this is an aberration) I decided to wander around and look at what’s on offer. I don’t like what these stores have done to the retail and manufacturing world, not to mention the consumer habits they have perpetuated. But instead of just bitching about them and their practices, I thought I should see for myself. I wandered into the sporting goods area. After getting over my recurring surprise at the guns and ammunition on display (at least they no longer sell handguns in the lower 48), I found my way into the fishing aisle. Since I know virtually nothing about fishing lures or bait, it all looked good to me. With all the hundreds of different shapes, patterns and colors, I had a fleeting moment of appreciation. They’re nice, aren’t they?
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