Here’s what I like.
Drives lined with live oak trees.
And views of the marshes.
Cedar trees weathered by the salt.
And Spanish Moss.
And foundations of plantation homes built hundreds of years ago.
And sunsets on the harbor.
And ship rigging.
And this house.
But you knew that already.
One day, we will live here.
ONE. DAY.
Posted by Anna-Elizabeth | 0 commentsWhen I was younger, I had a cassette tape of ghost stories read by Kathryn Windham Tucker.
I listened to that tape for hours.
Mostly because Kathryn was the most amazing story teller.
But she was also from Selma, Alabama. The same place my great grandmother was from, so their accents were almost the same. Listening to Kathryn was like listening to Gran Mother.
Point is, one of the stories Kathryn told on that cassette tape was about Bonaventure.
Bonaventure used to be a plantation. One night, while the family was hosting a dinner party, word was brought to the owner that the house was on fire.
The owner had the tables moved to the lawn under the oak trees.
And they continued to entertain their guests while their home burned.
The fire warmed the guests and they danced and ate the night away.
And now, if you are in Bonaventure late at night, you can still hear the music and the clinking of china.
And even the voices and laughter of that 1700s dinner party fill the air.
It certainly feels haunted. It feels like someone is with you all the time, just watching. Nothing malicious or scary of course. Just that someone is right there with you. I can see what authors come here for inspiration.
And just think. I have a personal connection with Bonaventure.
These are the graves of my great great great uncle and aunt. And their son is buried an the left. My momma is named after them you know.
They were remarkably easy to find. I just asked the caretaker to look them up and he told us the plot number.
I’m connected to history, y’all.
Posted by Anna-Elizabeth | 0 commentsI might have a new obsession. It’s hard to tell just yet. I certainly have a new something to collect.
It all started with those tricky square calling cards. I needed something to put them in so they wouldn’t get all bent and sad in my various camera bags. Something old, either antique or vintage, was in order as I am not a fan of new unless I have to.
Bert and I searched high and low for a case that would work. We found a million that were from the 1700s and just jaw droppingly beautiful. They were also jaw droppingly expensive. Call me stingy, but I can’t justify $1,200 for a case that will be knocked around in my bags.
True to Murphy’s Law, we found the mother load of affordable and properly sized cases in a little antique mall near our house.
Turns out, vintage loose powder compacts are the perfect size. Just remove the powder puff and clean out the powder remnants with a q-tip and booyah.
Perfect. And the options kept on coming.
Admittedly, this one is really a cigarette case but as a chronic asthmatic I find poetic justice in re-purposing it.
Now, get ready. This one is my favorite even if it is the least practical.
It’s a 1940s compact purse. And it’s awesome.
It’s also in pretty bad shape and even more poorly repaired.
That’s how I got it for such a steal. I love a steal.
The little clock works, but I can’t figure out how to set it. I’ve tried pulling up the knob and pushing it in. Nothing. Anyone have other suggestions?
These little cases and compacts have sparked something of a collector in my heart. I’ll always be on the look out for them now.They are the perfect thing to collect: small, easy to find, a million practical uses, varying ages from 1600s to the 1950s and a huge range of price points.
Not to be outdone, my partner Sarah Bob purchased a couple via one frantic phone call and numerous text message while I was swimming in options.
You’ll have to wait for her blog post to see them. I don’t want to have all the fun.
Posted by Anna-Elizabeth | 1 comments