I had always wanted to live in a big old house and nine years ago, my dream was realized when we moved to a 3-story colonial in a quirky old suburb. Our street was gorgeous, lined with tall trees and an array of styles of homes...colonials, bungalows, cottages...most built in the 1920s. The neighborhood, extremely diverse in ages, ethnicities and occupations, was a most interesting place to live.
One Sunday afternoon a month after we moved in, I glimpsed an elderly women struggling up our front steps. It was a sleety, November day and my silent plea as I hurried to the door was please.don't.slip, please.don't.slip, please.don't.slip. It was Gwen, welcoming us with a plate of cookies and regaling us with a bit of neighborhood history. She and her husband, Steve, had lived on the street for over sixty years and, as I later found out from neighbors (if I hadn't guessed from our visit), they were quite the characters...a neighborhood institution.
By summer, Steve had passed away and Gwen's family quietly moved her to an assisted living facility. Word spread of a planned estate sale before the house was sold. In my many moves, I have never lived in a place that offered such wonderful sales. Homes there were large (attics!), family histories long. The inevitable waits for admittance were always rewarded with a few treasures, no matter your number in line.
How then did I forget about the sale until late that afternoon as I ran out to do an errand? My kitchen was in the back of the house and I must have been otherwise occupied, the thick walls of my old house quieting what must have been a frenzy of activity. My heart sank as I threw the car into park and scurried past exiting *estate sailors*, carrying their booty out the front door. By then, the house was pretty bare but in a jumble of picked over Christmas decorations, I came across this wreath. Except for its awful dipped plastic leaves, I found it utterly charming and gladly handed over a dollar to bring it home with me.
Since I brought it home that day, the wreath's been packed with our Christmas decorations but never used. I'd been hunting for some velvety leaves to replace the plastic ones and finally found them when I stopped at Tinsel Trading Company during my trip to NYC last August. Now that my Christmas prep is mostly done, I'm going to spend some time on this. I love the patina on the old Christmas balls. The sugared fruit, sprinkled with a few cracks here and there, seems perfectly aged.
I'm not sure if I'll end up taking it all apart to remake or if I'll just switch out the leaves. In any case, I won't pack it away until it's finished and ready to hang next year. I think it will look wonderful against the wood of my antique cupboard. And every time I look at it, I'll think of Gwen, negotiating my slippery steps to welcome us to the neighborhood.
I love this story of Gwen and the wreath--makes me smile and feel sad all at the same time.
Posted by: June | December 21, 2006 at 11:46 AM
That wreath is beautiful. You really painted a great picture, I could just see Gwen on the porch.
Posted by: KT | December 21, 2006 at 12:43 PM
That's a wonderful story, Jan. It's neat how certain items hold such a special place. (BTW, I also want to live, some day, in an big old house too.)
Posted by: Kathy | December 21, 2006 at 12:59 PM
What a lovely story Jan. Thanks so much for sharing it.
Posted by: myra | December 21, 2006 at 01:45 PM
What a wonderful piece of history!
Posted by: Chris | December 21, 2006 at 01:46 PM
We're in Cleve Hts now, though not the big old house. We haven't quite had the neighborhood charm that you experienced but we enjoy our time here regardless.
Posted by: Melinda | December 21, 2006 at 02:56 PM
Don't change too much, it's just perfect now! Change the leaves and see how it feels, the craks give it the flavor of time.
Posted by: JudyC | December 21, 2006 at 04:30 PM
It's wonderful that you have Gwen's wreath. I'm sure you'll make it uniquely your own when you change the leaves but you'll always remember where it came from and that's what really counts.
Posted by: Carole | December 21, 2006 at 04:38 PM
What a beautiful story. I, for one, am very sad that you missed out on the bulk of the estate sale. Merry Christmas, Jan!
Posted by: Norma | December 21, 2006 at 05:54 PM
What a lovely story! I'll bet Gwen would be thrilled to know you're keeping here wreath going.
Posted by: Jacqui583 | December 21, 2006 at 06:42 PM
Love that wreath! Why don't you just write a little M on the bottom before you put it away?
Posted by: molly! | December 21, 2006 at 06:59 PM
Cool story. As much as I'd like to go back to doing a themed tree and a themed house at Christmas like I used to do BK (before kids), the hodge podge of trim we have now all have stories behind them and are all pretty precious.
Posted by: Kathie | December 21, 2006 at 07:35 PM
Now THAT'S a great story! Enjoy your wreath and memories of Gwen!
Posted by: Carol | December 21, 2006 at 09:03 PM
Well done...beautiful wreath and story.
Posted by: betz | December 21, 2006 at 09:14 PM
What a great wreath! I do hope you'll show us how it turns out -- I can't wait to see.
I've been wanting to thank you for the links of late -- that yo-yo tree and the others -- they're just great. I always find something interesting when I follow a Be*mused link. ; )
Posted by: Vicki | December 22, 2006 at 12:29 AM
that is one lovely wreath jan, i think that the find you found at that sale was just perfect. with the new leaves it seems just right.
happy holidays!
Posted by: susan | December 22, 2006 at 07:13 AM
What a beautiful story! And the wreath is beautiful too. Merry Christmas.
Posted by: Nancy | December 22, 2006 at 11:30 AM
thank you for this sweet story of kindness and remembrance...and for your wonderful blog and link to mine....hoping to make it a happier place soon. in the meantime, i'll just hang around here. happy new year.
Posted by: charlotte | December 30, 2006 at 10:27 AM