This is my favorite tea cup.
She's a no name number in periwinkle with a badly glued chip in the lip.
She was fifty cents at my favorite vintage treasures shop, but I have a feeling they would have just given her to me if I'd ask.
I can't quite explain why but sometimes, somethings just fit so perfectly in your hands that you can't help but feel the blessing of their past owners. Like the long-gone from this world are resting just a little easier knowing that you are there, carrying on in their stead. That they are not forgotten, that the remains of their days still hold a twinkle of beauty.
This little sliver of perfectly turquoise beach pottery hails from a rocky shore here in Northern California. This beach, years ago, was the official town dump, a place to discard the old on the cliff bluffs, set blaze to the pile, then push it into the sea. As you walk the ocean's edge, you step not on sand, not on rock, but on millions upon millions of bits of glass and pottery.
I'd like to imagine this little piece was once from a tea cup as beloved as mine, holding black coffee on fog laden mornings.
Just because it is unknown, does not mean it is forgotten.
Ten Thousand Small Histories Necklace
Sterling Silver, Mendocino Beach Pottery and One Pressed Feather
In other news, THIS is still taking up most of my days.
When she's lovey, all she wants in the world is a warm body to snuggle with.
When she's feisty, you can hear her jaws snapping like a crocodile two rooms away.
Beware your toes!
Happy Friday All!