I love finding a new road-side treasure. It pretty much makes my day every time. I seem to be drawn most often to chairs and storage receptacles. It must have something to do with their utilitarian natures. They are both functional and (if I like them) pretty.
This long, short, simple shelf was just such a treasure. She was on the side of the road one neighborhood down the hill. We think she either held potted plants or paint cans based on the marks and scratches on her surface.
While not the finest of furniture pieces, I couldn't help but see her loveliness beneath the dirt.
The potential in the castoff.
So I gave her a good scrubbing. I washed and a bleached and oxi'd and rinsed and washed some more until her true colors - not dingy gray- came shining through again. A bright, gleaming, albeit chippy, white.
I even did some light sanding, which brought out the prettiest bits of aqua paint here and there. I have wondered if I should sand some more and try and pull out as much aqua as possible. Maybe I will. Later on.
Currently the shelf is residing in our living room. It is pretty long and there are not many places it will easily fit. I think the arrangement makes this wall a little strange, all the linear pieces lined up and shoved against one wall. But it is what it is.
And I have decided not to care about it too much for now. After all I am not trying to win a Best Decorated House in the World contest.
I love the way my globes look all lined up across the top, and I adore how the light flows through the open back. I like that it's old and worn. That it is funky and distressed. That there is more than one layer to it's patina. And of course that I found it on the side of the road.
Sitting on my sofa, admiring my little shelf, I am reminded once again how this story - this side of the road rescue and restoration- is also my story. I am, like my shelf, scuffed and worn thin in many places, I am pretty open, but I am still far from perfect. Luckily for my little shelf, and even more for me, this that is not the best or most important bit in our stories. No, the best part is this: We were found. We were plucked up, rescued, taken home and loved well.
This is something I need to remember a lot more often. Like every minute of every day.