While I was dusting my Grandmother clock this morning, it spoke to me - it chimed 11:00.
This was my mother's clock, one that my parents had purchased to replace a stolen one, when they still lived on the farm in the Willamette Valley. It moved with them to their retirement house in the town of Molalla, where, after Dad died, it suffered from lack of proper attention and stopped working.
It did not move into Mother's assisted living apartment. When no one else wanted it, we brought it home with us. Tom replaced the works, and now it sings to us each hour. It is a reminder of my mother.
That's how it is as I dust on cleaning day. Our home is filled with treasures - old family pieces and thing we have collected. Each one has a story.
For example, the clock on the mantle belonged to Tom's maternal grandparents. It was a gift to us one Christmas from Tom's mother. The framed picture is actually made of tiny glass beads, and was created by Tom's grandfather, back when beading was a common hobby. It used to hang in Tom's parents house.
I bought this old clock for Tom one year for Christmas. He didn't inherit the one his grandparents had, it went to his brother, and he always admired them in shops, so I actually ordered it on line. We had it restored to working order. It is flanked by candle sticks we purchased in a blacksmith shop in an ancestral village in Sweden.
Tom bought this clock in a shop in Langley on Whidbey Island. It has been restored too, except that it never bongs the correct hour. It just does what it wants. I love it.
This was my grandmother's clock, which I claimed when we cleaned out my aunt's house It is also restored to working order. Sitting next to it is a pot we purchased from the Van Briggle Pottery factory in Colorado Springs, on one of our many trips to Colorado. The little mosaic hook plaque was purchased from the artisan who made it in a little shop on a back street in Rome.
On the dining room table is a table topper we bought from a street vendor in the market square in Munich, Germany. On it is a compote that belonged to Tom's grandparents and candle sticks I bought in an antique shop a long time ago.
And that's how it goes, when I dust and rearrange and pick up and put away on house cleaning day. The memories flash by. This is just a small portion of the treasures with stories.
It was a good day for housework, since the drizzle persisted throughout the morning. The blooms in the garden are drooping their heads, while being refreshed after too much, too early heat.
We did get a walk in this afternoon in the cool, damp air. Looks like we may have more of that this week.