Important things...

 There are some important "new" things finding places to settle here at FairWinds. These things belonged to my sister Diane, who died over twenty years ago, far too young. "Dicy" was a character and dearly loved by many. She had quirky, eclectic taste, and wherever she lived, her home was filled with wondrous objects, delightful to see. Last week, her partner contacted me and asked if I wanted a few of those things. She is selling the home they shared and had a few items to gift. She kindly dropped them off with Chris at work, filling his car with memories. 

Dicy had this horse as long as I can remember, and it looks fine on top of a cabinet in our living room. 

I'm pretty sure these are the skis my parents used to put outside by the front door in the winter, with some festive greens. They are tall, the wood smooth as glass, and the metal tag on them says "Gregg Mfg." There are tattered leather "binders" and rusty metal bits remaining, fragile with age. I'm not sure what I will do with these, but I'll find a fun spot for them. 

Dicy loved images of cherubs, and this little container found a place on my bedroom vanity table in an instant. 

How sweet is this little thumb back chair? 

It has not found its perfect spot just yet, but it will. 

There was a slim blue folder that contained some newspaper articles, pictures of Dicy, my other siblings, and some cousins, all tucked neatly in its pockets. I looked through it while sitting at my kitchen table, and was transported back to the home we grew up in. I could feel the nubby, scratchy fabric of the living room chairs and smell the scent of home. The sound of our childish voices echoing through the walls my father built sounded faintly in some dim corner of my mind. I had a little cry with my breakfast, then moved through my day, checking off my long "to-do" list and feeling the lingering melancholy of time gone by as I worked. 

We had been gifted an entire bushel (54 pounds) of tomatoes, along with onions as big as a baby's head, and a pile of peppers. 

Rachel brought the girls over, and they played underfoot while we worked quickly to core the fruit and toss in garlic, onion, sweet and hot peppers, and a few random zucchini that were lying around into our huge cooker. The house began to smell like a fine Italian restaurant as fragrant steam seeped from under the lid. It's a late-summer tradition, creating delicious sauce to store away and enjoy the taste of harvest season during the cold winter months. 

I puttered about, finding places for Dicy's treasures to roost, breathing in the delicious aromas. A wonderful cook in her own right, a creator of coziness and welcome, I believe she would have approved of my efforts. 

I know that the "things" that surround me in this place are dispensable in the end, but for today, they carry the weight of happy recollections and solace. They nurture my soul, similar to the way the simmering sauce will nurture my body when the cold winter winds blow.