I used carpet tacks to stick a piece of my favorite rag weave to the front of this "cabinet" made from an old hand built bee box. The bee box is made with dovetail joints, and has carved in hand holds. There is a new shelf inside, courtesy of my carpenter-husband, and a little bit of waxy residue from the former tenants. There is a cup hook.
Chester lived alone on the family place a few miles from us, when we moved here 30 years ago.
He was an old man. His house had disappeared long ago behind trees and uncut brush. Sometimes I saw him walking along the road to the country store, but we never knew much about him. In the winter there was just a footpath in the snow on his driveway. He didn't farm, he didn't drive. One year he died.
When the property was sold, the new owners found outside his front door, a huge pile of discarded
maraschino cherry bottles and Vienna sausage cans.
I imagine a jar of cherries on the shelf, a can of Vienna sausages, and maybe a tin of Copenhagen snus.
what a lovely story and the box and rag weave are beautiful together.
what a piece of furniture - perfectly complete in all sences. (and every time I see your patchy weavings I get itching in my palms).
There is special word in swedish (I don't know any equivalent in english or russian)- vemod, and it means "a quiet feeling that something meaningful is over and will never come back".
Saskia, I was so glad to put these two things together. I wonder that it took me so long to see it. Poor Chester, what a diet! Thank you
textile practice, I am so happy for your itchy feeling if I inspired it! I hope you will start weaving soon. Thank you, and thanks for your word, Vernod--your definition sounds like a poem, so much better than what we might just call nostalgia, which implies it is unimportant
Chester and I have a lot in common! Not the maraschino cherries, or the vienna sausages.... but the hermit living behind the years of over growth.
I love the rag weave with the old beehive shelf! A perfect combination!
Love your new cabinet, Susan!
Karen, Thank you
Julie, I'm glad you're not letting your nutrition go, even if the brush is getting thick around you. Still, Chester lived to a ripe age, in a smoky house, chewing tobacco, eating red dye cherries and canned weiners. There are mysteries in life.
This is a beautiful post. Your weaving makes me love it in a whole new way! I've always been a sucker for dovetail joints (don't ask me why!!) And this story, 'vemod' is a wonderfully perfect word used here.
Came here via Jude and so glad I did :) (((sigh)))
PS My mom had a thing for those cherries in her first year of marriage, 1950. Don't ask me why about that either!! Hahaha
thanks, Nancy, and
Jude is a textile inspiration.
My mom always featured these super red cherrries in a whipped cream, fruit cocktail (from a can) "salad" One of my earliest happy food memories, a Mattterhorn like tower of cherry studded whipcream. I can live in this world, was my thought
what a joy to find this post
and wonderful use of the beebox.
i love beeboxes.
a moving story.
Thank you. Old bee supers: rusty nails, dovetails, weathered colors, a former factory/residence with a Queen presiding, are a few of their excellent qualities
I really love this!!
i love your work and your blog, susan. i'm so fascinated by the former inhabitants of a place. ~robin
Here I am again. I was just recently at your blog (current date), which once again caused me to think of this post, this box with weaving. I feel kinda silly, it is almost just plain ridiculous really, how many times this box/post has jumped into my memory. I don't really know why it speaks to me so deeply, but it does.
Tonight, while looking for something in my blog archives, I came across the link to this one (again). How serendipitous!
Anyway, just wanted to tell you again. xo
Funny how I've saved the post aside and come back to look every now and again, for I always remember the beauty of the little green box, the weaving, everything. Hope you are well. Nancy
I am the only one who still comes here to this post. Over and over again I look at each photo, every detail of this green box with a cup hook, a weaving and wax from its previous life. Every bit of this charms me. Your weaving here is just right. Simple goodness that always makes me pause, smile slowly creeping over my face.
I hope you are still well.
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