Tara Precious memories. This cabinet stocked with mason jars of nourishment has not always held this position.
Long ago this beauty of a piece once sat in my great-grandmother’s house. One of my great-grandparent’s first purchases together as a married couple quickly became a catchall--becoming storage for linens and clothes alike.
My Nana, whom I love dearly, was one of their four children. She tells stories of how her mother, whose name according to my brother was “Granny Honey“, wasn’t the housekeeper women were bred to be in that era.
If and when she washed (granted this wasn’t a dump and wait kind of washing routine that we have the privilege of enjoying today), no one knew where their clothes might end up. Nana tells stories of being mortified when their family had guests for the night. Remember, her mother wasn’t the hostess with the mostest--she would direct the guest to the cabinet to pick up a set of sheets for their new room. Lo and behold, there would be my Nana’s underwear, neatly folded and proudly sitting on top of the set needed by the weary guest.
Simple stories like this turn a piece of old and forgotten furniture into a window of days gone by. Hopefully, this piece will find its way into my home one day--and who knows what will sit upon its shelves.
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