I love old stuff.

And I can usually fit a lot of what I love in the car, because I love
small old stuff.

On my recent trip to Nebraska to "divvy" up (with my sisters) the stuff my mom couldn't take to her new independent living home, there was only one thing that I
insisted was going home with me. This small image of my grandmother with the beads she wears in the photo.

Most of my best flea market finds can be carried out in my purse.

Unless there is a great stash of old books.
I love them too, and I especially love crafting their covers and pages into something else.

The cover of this old scrapbook is from 1876 -- just eleven years after the Civil War ended.

I am humbled to add anything to the pages that lie between these covers . . . even though the pages are now new.
Thankfully, "humble" is an emotion that generally passes.