Time for Seashell Collecting

It's summer, and I just woke up at 1:30 A.M. Wanted to do my daily blogging earlier, but a glass of red wine interfered, as did the heavy valises of responsibility and sadness that have been accompanying me everywhere. Calls to rehab center for Dad, calls to Sis to confer, calls to assisted living places to get best rates, calls to our insurance guy because our health insurance cancelled, calls, calls, calls. Stress, stress, stress. [Even though today was Ringo Starr's 70th birthday and I heard on the radio that his wish was that everyone would flash the peace sign at noon. I wanted to, but turns out I was home by myself then.] Sometimes I wonder if my little heart can take this load.

Then I thought....collecting! Summer is the perfect lazy [or lazier] window to focus on the slow, old-fashioned passion of hunting, gathering and admiring things we love, like seashells or wildflowers from the roadside. One will last and one will dry, but both are things of beauty.

Prize Collections
A list of what some people I know are [or were] proud to call their own.

Pieplates with recipes right on the dish. My friend Kim, whose inspiring blog is listed on my sidebar, wrote a whole colorful post about these yard-sale treasures. I've got to find the link again. I've known Kim for more than 25 years, but it wasn't until I read about this passion that I truly knew her. ;) [And I also remember Kim once showing me an equally charming collection of delicate antique perfume bottles on her bedroom mantel.]

Egg cups. Sis collected these forever, and our brother Will built her a special wood shelf to display them. She had old ones, new ones, ones she gathered from her travels. As a single lady, she had them on view in her Upper East Side apartment. There was less room when she moved into her husband's place, so they are packed away.

Postcards. I collected these as a girl--nice, because they cost pennies and don't take much space. I started with the one my friend Barbara mailed me when her family moved to Pensacola in third grade. It was so cool. It had a packet with an actual cotton tuft from the South attached to it. [This was complementary to my shorter-lived and more limited collection of little Troll dolls.] Shown above: Cool vintage postard from flickriver.com.

Coins. My oldest brother had books and books full of these, the heavy disks carefully fit into the individual slots. My Dad encouraged this, and I remember them talking about it. Just before we left behind the house of 50 years, I took one more look in the attic, and found the coin collections hidden in the back, under the eaves. H. and I then kept them in our attic, but now that the tree fell, they're in storage. I would love to get them back to their rightful owner, but that would involve me being brave enough to call again, and him picking up the phone and agreeing to see us. Heartbreak again, heavy valise. Our Dad will die one day sooner rather than later, without having seen his firstborn for over 10 years. I would probably have better luck leaving them on a street corner in NYC so he could swing by and get them. Pardon my sarcasm; it's been building over years.

Hummels. Rite, our older family friend on Cape Cod, has many of these figurines. When I visit, I see them there in the kitchen, in a hutch, wielding their signature umbrellas and flowers. Rite always keeps them clean and dusted, something I could not do.

Cookie tins. I also collect these metal cans that tell tales of treats past. My favorites include a DeLuxe fruitcake tin circa 1960s [I think] stamped COLLIN STREET BAKERY, CORSICANA, TEXAS 75110 U.S.A. It has a picture of a cowboy on the front, and I got it for 25 cents at a church yard sale. The problem with this collection is I don't have enough space to properly display it. But I love the thought of people before me filling these special, colorful cans with sweets to share.

Pens. H. gathers these. Everything from his prized Waterman fountain pen, which I got him as a gift, to goofy light-up pens and floaty pens with moving battleships or locomotives in them.

How about you?

Sweet dreams.