At Old Town Antiques

Old Town Antiques is a store in Eureka. I usually find great prism like pieces of crystal salvaged from light fixtures of the Victorian era there. On this day, I saw this lovely old Treadle. Go on, click on the picture and you'll see a bigger one, get detail.

It was a delightful moment, almost like running into an old friend. If I had more room, I'd have invited it home with me. After all, I don't have a coffin top treadle yet. Yes, I try to convince myself at times that I'm all done collecting sewing machines, but shhhhhh, somehow I think it's not over yet.

There is still something about a sewing machine. I look at this machine and I see a thousand machines. I see my aunt's machine, the one who made costumes in Hollywood. I see my other aunt's machine, which was a lot smaller, which she used to make dolls and toys for the "rez". She and my mother got me into helping as soon as I could sew without piercing my fingers. All I can say is that I was lucky mom's machine had a knee control, because my legs were too short to reach the floor at that time. I think of my grandmother's treadle...

A legacy of love. A love of legacy.

High Tide

Taking a small lesson from small birds.
The sandpipers are sitting on a burned out pier in
Humboldt Bay. The pier has been abandoned by humanity, and adopted by
the birds. These Sandpipers would much rather be at the water's edge, feeding, but it is high tide, and there's no place for them to go. The wind is blowing, although you can't see it from the picture, their bellies are empty, and their recourse is to wait.
A small lesson. You'll note they are not tearing each other to shreds,
nor are they jumping into the water, which for birds that don't swim, would
be a foolish move. They wait, and I'd like to think they don't worry, as the tide will
recede, the shoreline will be revealed, and when they get there, the small
worms and tiny insects they feed on, will be there as well.

I wrote this because so many are imploding or exploding over this recent economic situation. I write it to remember that the birds have faith. Patience, and faith. I write to remind that the tide is the tide, and that's all it is. It's not a tsunami, it's not a cessation of the world as the shore birds know it, its not their fault that the tide is high. When the tide is gone, there will be food. I don't think any of the shorebirds lose sleep over this. Maybe they do, I can't look into the heads of the birds, after all. To me, they're a symbol of hope. If faith works for sandpipers, it could also work for us. 'Nuff said.