Kitchen Window Sill

4 March 2009

I think your kitchen window sill says a lot about who you are. Maybe not as much as your desk, or your Facebook page, but a lot, nonetheless.

At the end of a workday, and after coming back into the kitchen after dinner with my husband and some of his coworkers, I knew I needed to take a photo. I was headed into my workshop to take yet another picture of what I’d been working on today; yet more fabric and trim. It’s not a completed project yet, so the photo wasn’t going to be very exciting or very different than a dozen others I’ve taken recently. So, when I noticed the glowing candle I’d forgotten to blow out, I was struck by how pretty the scene was. Then, I got to thinking that many people wouldn’t think it was pretty—they’d see the clutter; they’d see the dirt that spilled out of a plant pot the last time I’d watered; they’d see the yellowing of a leaf.

But, I decided I didn’t care. At that moment I didn’t want to look at fabric. I wanted to look at glass and green plants and ripening bananas. (The bananas didn’t make it into the photo, but you can see part of the banana stand on the far right.) So, I looked at my kitchen window and realized just how much it really had to say about me.   It was full of not just stuff—but of memories. 

I looked at the beautiful little “castle” pot on the left edge of the shelf and remembered Kyle buying that for me one year from a TRF crafter.  And I looked at the red glass mosaic candle holder that I had picked out for myself in the summer of ’97 when I worked the Minnesota renfaire for the last time.  And, the neat three-pot stacker that Kyle bought me a couple of years ago at a home and garden show at the Arlington Convention Center.  And, the three beautiful (if I do say so myself!) tumblers (plus the one wonky one) that I made with Shannon and Ginger and Kelly and George, at Faire Maiden Glass at Bristol.  There’s a piece of real Girl Glass made by Shannon on the window sill right now—it’s the little wavy-topped thing that was an accident, but perfectly holds and displays the gardenia blossoms I sometimes get gifted to me at faire.   Behind that is the tumbler I got in the apprentice glass exchange that was made by Chad Fabulous.  And there’s the sweet little Desert Rose vase  that I use to root cuttings, that I found in a thrift store and kept for myself rather than giving it to my mom, ’cause it wasn’t perfect enough.  There’s a sweet little wooden box I received as a gift years ago, and the little ring holder I’ve had since I was a little girl.  One bud vase holds the first leather roses I ever bought at a faire—from Codie, I’m sure!  Another holds a silk rose a friend gave to Kyle at Hawkwood one summer long ago.  In the corner is the bottle that once held the honey meade that Kyle’s dad made for our wedding.  The window is framed by a curtains I made and sweet little lantern-shaped string lights that act as the perfect night light.  The plant hanging over the window rests in an iron cauldron, suspended by chain from a bracket depicting oak leaves and acorns that always makes me think of Starr.  Next to that  hangs a little plant rooter with a beautifully beaded hanger made by “Pretty Patty.”  So much stuff—just clutter to most.  But, each little detail means something.  Even my soap dispenser is adorned with a fleur de lis.

The assortment of stuff does change from time to time.  Plants sometimes die or get re-potted.  The gardenia holder will go with me to faire.  When we get tired of eating bananas, I’ll hang a cup on there instead.  But, whatever sits up there, will always have a story to tell, I’m sure.