The Thrill is Gone...

This evening I wandered into the local chain fabric store after having made some photocopies at the chain office-supply store next door. As usual I headed to the button racks, hoping to find a few interesting examples of the koumpounologist's arcane art. I was a bit taken aback to find that the button rack was full of interesting buttons- and a bit disturbed.
You would think I would be thrilled. But I could only shake my head in rueful disillusion. Card after card of buttons designed to entice me- but that was the problem. It was like shooting fish in a barrel. A large part of the thrill was- and remains- the hunt. Searching through bins of old, dusty cards from the 60's or earlier. Pawing through the contents of button jars purchased at yard sales or flea markets for the few gems. Sorting the contents of almost opaque old plastic bags full of odd buttons. Opening a rusty, battered mint tin from someone's grandmother that had been placed in my hands by a generous friend. The squeak of an ancient display rack in a small five & dime in a small town on a blue highway...
None of that here- the charm of buttons has been co-opted by the chain store.
Did I buy some? Of course I did. I did not, however, choose the obviously cute buttons- too slick, too calculated. I need to endow them with charm through the process of making my art with them- not slap on some ready-made charm. It all reminds me of what happened when the market was flooded with those ghastly teapots that were consciously-designed to look like a sewing table or a tea table. I love real, authentic teapots- they are marvels of useful design. And I love real buttons. Can inner authenticity be achieved through outward means- no, but I can applaud these little bits of authenticity in an increasingly unauthentic world.

My name is Polly and I am a koumpounomaniac.

From the Corrections Dept.

I had posted earlier that I did not have too much to sort through, pack, sell, etc. I was very, very wrong. I am dismayed by the amount of stuff I have to get rid of. I have filled the living room of the house to the brim with goods to be sold on and there are still the garage and the attic to deal with....
Now, I might try to finesse this by saying I was being very abstemious in what I am taking with me, but I will probably have to keep the storage unit- albeit a smaller one- when I find a new place to live. Out of the collection of hundreds of teapots I kept 10, out of the collection of china, I kept 3 small sets, out of the collection of wooden animals on wheels, I kept 5; but even then it seems like there is too much stuff.
How am I going to shift all of this? An antiques dealer is coming by this afternoon to set up an estate sale. I am having a "dig your own" garden sale this weekend and I hope can move on some of the stuff from the garage... Oh, I am getting a headache.....

Tea

Its about time I got around to talking a bit about tea. I love drinking tea and I especially love teapots. Is there any other useful object that has inspired so many to flights of fancy, endless explorations of form and function, or to nostalgia for the almost mythical comfort of the cozy hearth? The teapot is all these and more. It is a canvas for the artist, icon for the homesick, company in the darkest hours, boon companion in contentment, care for the ailing in body or spirit, sympathy in grief, conspirator in schemes and gossip, repository for omens of the future. (If you have visited my website: thrumsend.com, you might recognize this last bit, but I like it so I will repeat it.)
I have been known to drink coffee, especially since a decent cup of tea is not often to be found whilst on the road, but, if I am weary in body, mind or soul- it must be tea. And, due to the advances of time and age, decaffeinated tea (sigh.) But there are some decent decaf Earl Grey teas out there and that is my brew of choice- milky in the morning, straight after noon. I have some dear friends in London who drink a brew of 1/2 darjeeling and 1/2 Earl Grey which is quite nice too. I am also very fond of iced-tea any time of the year- but not that horrid overly-sweetened fruity concoction that some people seem to think is iced-tea. Brewed, unsweetned darjeeling or ceylon. Lemon in the winter, mint and lemon in the hot weather, both with just a touch of sweetening, thank you very much. I have never understood the taste for teas like Lapsang Souchong, but I have also never eschewed the idea that I am not that refined.
This is one of those times of the year when I drink quite a bit of tea- it is cold, icy, rainy, sleety, and muddy out there- just on the brink of the change of seasons. I am hungry for spring, but if I can't have spring yet - and in these days of climate change, I would rather be hungry for spring than have it thrust upon me prematurely- I can have a lovely steaming mug of tea and a biscuit while I read the seed catalogs.
The teapots? I will talk about them later- the kettle is almost at the boil, must run....