Oh Ye, of Little Faith

BEFORE.

AFTER.

A new friend who runs an estate sale business.

Patience to wait until the last sale day, even knowing amazing treasures would slip through my fingers.

A pitiful, sad, ready-for-the-fire-pile little settee for my very favorite price -- FREE!!! -- with just enough of a graceful curve to turn my head.

Another talented friend who inspired me with her lovely, creative uses of the humble dropcloth.

Multiple washes and bleaches to soften the painters' tarp to a linen-y vibe.

A hired seamstress.

Dear Universe.  I would like some karmic points here, please. For truthfulness. Despite coming from a long line of embellishers and storytellers. Talking mainly about you, Dad.

COULD I have sewn it myself?  Probably. But WOULD I have? Probably not. So let's please overlook the part where I did not sew it myself.

Just a sad little broken down dirty rotten crying shame of an abandoned piece of furniture. Completely reimagined.

Happy heart.

And a fun new prop for Flower Farm's signature conversation areas. Braxton, my wedding assistant (who has the actual audacity to leave me -- leave me! -- in order to become a big deal in college this year, before the two of us get rich and famous for our awesome wedding and event shenanigans), thinks it's hilarious that I call our conversation areas "vignettes." He mocks me with that word somewhat regularly.

Life Lesson Number One.  Things, and especially people, deserve second chances. There is always something beautiful left inside, just hoping for someone to notice and believe.

Life Lesson Number Two.  There is something powerful and rare about hard-working creative women supporting each other, cheering each other's successes, and holding out a hand of friendship just when your hand was feeling a little lonely and empty. Thank you, Sashin of Antiqueology and Barbara of Be at Home MT.  So glad to call you my new friends. Same to you, Autumn of Events by Autumn, Johanna from Johanna B Photography, and Karen of Vinyl Krazy Mama.  I am so grateful to have met each one of you.

Even though I know you will each say I was nuts to post this awful photo in the driveway without styling it first. You are right. As usual. But I couldn't wait.

Life Lesson Number Three.  A down-to-earth friend always needs a fancy friend to show her things.  Here is my old/new settee's fancier friend. Yes. Another new vignette in the making, Braxton.

Silk! Tufted! Swoon!

Life Lesson Number Four.  If you are 51 years old and have a dad who will laugh and shake his head but still drive you all over creation to pick up your junk and treasures and haul them home for you, and a mother who will help vacuum and clean your junk that has seen better days, then you are awfully, awfully lucky. Love you madly, Mom and Dad.

Junking Joy, Bridal Bonanza

Some days, after many frustrating Excel hours sorting and pivoting and filtering, oh my!...

... and still the data won't line up just the way I tell it to...

... well, I just need to step away for a moment. Clear my head. Take a deep breath.

And by that I mean, obviously: go junking.  Ah, lovely things. You make my heart sing.

Yesterday, my soul was parched for pretties. Not for me, of course. But for my beautiful brides. (I do it all for you, Montana brides. Have I mentioned? This is also what I tell Greg when he rolls his eyes at me. "It's for the brides, honey.")

The photo does not do it justice, but this silver tray? It weighs about 15 pounds. It is footed. It has feet!  How sweet is that? The patina is perfect.  This tray?  It. Is. Everything.

The hobnail compote dish: sublime.

The candleholders with crystals: so farm fancy.

The little creamer: blushing so sweetly.

The four new embroidered hankies for our growing collection: I think I will probably need a larger basket "For Happy Tears" at Flower Farm weddings. Isn't it lovely, the way people cry at weddings? I just adore that.

And doilies! Doilies, doilies, dreamy doilies. I picture the women all those decades ago, doing their delicate handwork, and I daydream about their conversations.

Thank you, Sashin at Antiqueology. Your shop is my new happy place. You were everything those stupid Excel spreadsheets were not... and so much more.  So. Much. More.  (And to be clear, shopping at Sashin's shop is not technically "junkng," because her inventory is so beautifully curated, edited and displayed. It's more like an afternoon in vintage/antique heaven. Swoon.)

Montana brides, come hither. Flower Farm has pretties. So many, many pretties.

Want to see a few more? Behold the website.