Many stories herein are subject to the faulty, and sometimes creative, memory of the blog owner and should not be taken as factual, although the names and events are real! Kind of.

Wednesday, August 01, 2007

Currier and Ives Dishes

Children swinging on a gate. A fine lady driving a carriage. Harvesters with sheaves of grain on their shoulders. Skaters on a frozen pond and a team of horses carefully crossing an icy river. These half forgotten memories lay buried until my mom went to auction and brought home a box of ‘good’ stuff. She took out what she wanted and gave the rest to me. Her discards were the source of those hazy memories. When I removed the Currier and Ives dishes from the carton, I could remember sitting at my grandma’s table eating many a meal and daydreaming about the adventures that were contained in these blue and white pictures.

Grilled cheese sandwiches were devoured off a dinner plate to reveal a horse drawn sled crossing an icy river as it leaves “The Old Grist Mill.” If we had peaches for dessert, I couldn’t wait to get to the bottom of the bowl to imagine being one of the children swinging on “The Old Farm Gate.” Cake and pie were slicked up so I could see the “Harvest” with the men toiling in the field and the women bringing them food. Cereal at breakfast time always gave me an arctic chill when the milk was gone from the bowl and the skaters on the pond of “Early Winter” were revealed. And who could resist drinking all her hot chocolate when it was served in a tea cup embellished with “The Star of the Road”-- a dashing lady driving a swift pair of horses?

These dishes fired my imagination and propelled me into another time, far away from the drone of the window air conditioner and into the hot harvest fields, the lazy summer days playing with friends or the feel of my skates propelling me across the newly frozen pond.

I welcomed my mom’s cast-offs as old friends and now I collect these dishes. They are neither expensive nor rare, but as I aquire new (to me) pieces that my grandma didn’t own, I’m given new stories to imagine, and each time I fill the serving bowl with green beans, and see the children greeting their dad at the gate as the family dog dances merrily at his feet, I get that “Welcome Home” feeling.

No comments:

One Last Thought.......

Pleasant words are a honeycomb;
sweet to the soul and healing to the body.
Proverbs 16: