Out my door

"It's a dangerous business, Frodo, going out of your door," he used to say. "You step into the Road, and if you don't keep your feet, there is no knowing where you might be swept off to.

J.R.R. Tolkien

Well, in this case it wasn't actually dangerous, unless you count the fact that I spent some of my pin money when I wasn't intending to. By the way, don't you just love the phrase 'pin money'? Very old fashioned. I like it. According to BING, pin money became an English phrase to describe extra cash set aside by wives to run the household at the turn of the twentieth century. I earn mine by performing housewifery 18th century style. But never mind that. Back to our adventure.


Do you know what I discovered? Ten minutes from my home, back in the hills, as they say around here, is a little mill town. One of the old mills built in the 1700's has been turned into an artist colony of sorts. And once a year, they open it up to the public.


Local artists have created studio spaces to work and display their pieces. I got to chatting with one of the painters. She informed me there was a room left for a studio if I was interested. No thanks, I said. I have a makey-room at home, and it's free. Yes, she replied, I have a studio at home as well, but I always find myself getting distracted by other things. Ain't it the truth? But don't tempt me, Frodo. For the time being, free is free, and I'll remain free.


But it's fun to dream. And speaking of dreaming, I had to keep telling myself that I was still in PA, right in my own backyard. This quaint borough has an Appalachian feel about it--isolated enough to make me feel like a gawking tourist. It had century-old churches nestled between small but charming mill houses, and a big old stone mansion at the top of one of the hills. Which got me to wondering - had it belonged to the owner of the mill back in the day? Hmmmmm...


So, we saw a lot of beautiful art. I asked permission to photograph this neat piece made of found objects. Gosh, I love stuff like that.




Airplanes made out of old door hinges? Some people are just SO clever!


And my pin money went to a nifty little pile of antique textile scraps. The patterns are yummy, and I can feel the creative juices flowing.


Last but not least, when I came home that evening, I found a package in the mail. Now I can join Miss Emily Dickinson and "put a trinket on" - thanks, Ethel.


The morns are meeker than they were,
The nuts are getting brown;
The berry’s cheek is plumper,
The rose is out of town.

The maple wears a gayer scarf,
The field a scarlet gown.
Lest I should be old-fashioned,
I’ll put a trinket on.

Emily Dickinson
Nature XXVII, Autumn.