This weekend Mr Shoestring and I were on one of our companionable walks and after a while he noticed that I was falling behind from time to time, and demanded to know why. I showed him the beautifully coloured autumn leaf I had picked up and explained that I wanted one perfect leaf to pin on my wall at work (where the sun never shines and the light of the sun is replaced by fluorescents) to remind me of the changing seasons outside. This brought on a serious search by Mr Shoestring and I was presented with a wide assortment of leaves of different shapes, colours and states of decay which I culled down to a few likely prospects.
Eventually I found myself laughing uncontrollably because I was reminded of walks on the seashore with young children when they gather an array of shells or pebbles. I have been caught out in this situation before when I have surreptitiously discarded 50 or so of them, having looked at them and thought "Why would anybody think this was special, it is completely ordinary and has nothing to recommend it?", only to return home and be forced to lie, and pretend that I must have lost the treasures because of a hole in my pocket, when asked to present them for inspection. At this stage I understand that I have lost all credibility in the eyes of the children because I am so foolish that I can't even keep hold of treasure while on a walk. What is special and beautiful to one person is commonplace and dull to another, it seems. It is similar to the way that your old boyfriend takes up with somebody completely unsuitable and with no redeeming features, and you are astonished to discover this, but it is none of your business and you definitely can't comment on it.
Recently a couple of pretty china pieces were broken at Shoestring Cottage and number two daughter suggested a spot of mosaicing to use the pieces. That was a brilliant idea but not content with taking on a small project I decided to mosaic the fish pond, and you would be very surprised to see just how little surface area a side plate and a cup will cover. The search was on for cheap but colourful bits of china in the local op shop.
I bought this salad bowl for 20 cents with the idea of smashing it up too, but it was so attractive in a retro way that I couldn't bear to. It would be a shame to ruin it and it would be useful for a summer salad.
Even if I never find it, just turning the possibilities over in my mind is very satisfying.