The Touch, The Feel of Wood

Old painted architectural pieces.....
I love the look, the feel, the smell of old wooden things....

This flat wooden box has something to do with sorting cigars....at least that is what I was told when I bought it.....what do you think? I love it's graphic appeal...



These old porch balusters have a great patina... worn and chippy dark green paint...



We found them at Madison Bouckville a few years ago and I thought I would do something very creative with them but can't seem to decide what to do just yet....Any ideas? In the meantime I sort of like how they look all stacked together in the old bicycle basket....



These old small bowling pins need to be cleaned up and polished just a bit.....then I will line them up on a shelf....We have a collection of old Indian clubs....wooden weights, etc.



This is a miniature croquet set.....the mallets are only about a foot long each.....I guess it was a child's toy...



About ten years ago, my girlfriend Paula created a number of these frames out of old wood molding pieces for her pressed ferns. Even though the fern is now faded ... I love how it looks hanging on the wall in the lake house.



Curly wooden architectural details....again in forest green.... a color which goes so well with an Adirondack decor ...






This is special.....This little wooden bucket is probably the first "antique" I ever acquired.....I found it in the orchard on my grandparents' farm and I was taken with it's charm and pretty red color.....I was probably about eleven years old at the time and I asked my Nana if I could have it......I remember her pretty pale blue eyes tearing up as she laughed and said, "Of course you can have it...take it along!"

That was the beginning for me....I spent the rest of my youth in the barns, the basement of the old farmhouse and the attic....discovering treasure after treasure and always being told ...."Go ahead....you want that old thing? ....take it along!"

To this day, I can close my eyes and envision every detail of that old farmhouse....smell the scent of the hot dusty attic air and feel the warmth of the afternoon sun on my arms as it streamed through the attic window; I spent many hours poking around and looking through old boxes of linens, photographs and other family belongings up there.....

I have only to close my eyes and remember... in order to feel the dampness and smell the mustiness of the basement where Nana kept the sarsaparilla soda and my Great-Uncle Harry tinkered with all his old clocks...

With my eyes closed I can feel the smoothness of the dark wooden banister on the stairs my brother, sisters and I used to slide down on....
Special, calming memories...