Just ask my husband. We have moved out West and back in the 12 years that I have owned it, and it was lovingly wrapped with layer upon layer of bubble wrap and moving blankets, swaddled like a newborn each trip.
The bench was a present from my parents. What a gift! I look at it every day and I think of them. I think of the day I walked into the shop and it was sitting there, adorned with white ribbons and vintage silk roses, waiting for me.
How old is it? I don;t really know. Deacon's bench? Parson's bench? Just a bench? I don't know. It is one of those things that I should have asked my Mom while I still could. Where did she get it? Not sure. I will need to ask my Dad when I talk to him this weekend. Then I will post back about what he says. My guess? They found it at a flea market or an estate sale. I am sure it came out of a sweet New England farm house.
I love the little details. The patina. The craftsmanship.
The antique hardware.
I have it filled with pillows made from beautiful carpet or quilt or homespun remnants.
It is simply beautiful and it brings me such pleasure.
Won't you come and sit enjoy a cup of coffee and some conversation with me?
What is your most prized vintage or antique piece?
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