My trashy past has come back to haunt me. When it did it fit the way that it always did–like a glove.
Recently I found myself doing something I have not done for a good while–digging through the trash. When our kids were young I would often be seen claiming something one of our neighbors had discarded. Our daughters recall the sting of humiliation as I stood at the curb dressed in a suit for church finding treasure. They were not teenagers then. If they had been with me when I went through the trash the other day they would disown me.
The culprit was a large pot for flowers. It caught my attention. Then there were some boxes that flowers might be put in. From there it just went on and on.
Back in the day I found things five days a week, as if it was a job. Since then I have spent as much time getting rid of the treasures I thought we had to have. Like most people we have come to have too many things. But we did enjoy them. Some are still cherished items in our home.
Most of our outdoor furniture was ‘found’ like this. A fresh coat of white paint made the wicker look new. One winter I found a broken blue basket. It is still a thrill to me to put a few red flowers into it each spring. All summer I watch the flowers grow past the broken part. By September it looks like something sold in a high -priced department store. But the enjoyment of watching the discarded trash turn into something new and exciting–priceless.