Trash/Treasure

Once upon a time, my parents were driving through their town and spotted a rolled up oriental on the curb. They jumped out and tossed in the station wagon, took it home and unrolled it. It turned out to be COMPLETELY stained saturated sullied by dog excrement. They rolled it back up and put it on their curb. It disappeared within a hour. For all we know, that rug is still making the rounds.

I spent the weekend at my mother's house. I dug up some more plants in the garden, because I can't help myself. And I puttered around in her miraculous sewing room. It's full of fabric, for quilting and clothes and upholstery, sorted by color, weight, fiber. There's a veritable rainbow of thread, and any size, type or color button you might want. There are snaps and grommets and hooks and eyes. There's ribbon galore, and drawers full of yarn. There are bits of that and pieces of this. And it's organized to a fare-thee-well.

Out of scraps of madras and calico, I made doll clothes - two dresses for the one who only had the frou-frou ermine and velvet dress she came in and a skirt and halter top for one of the Groovy Girls. And I pieced a swath of bias-cut plaid onto a pair of pants that had become too short for Miss M. And I thought about the luxury of stuff.

Because, in someone else's hands, those buttons wouldn't have been rescued from a worn out shirt, those torn madras shorts wouldn't have been saved to later adorn a doll. I marvel at that resourcefulness, and I know how deeply it's ingrained in me. I too collect bits of this and pieces of that - both tangible and ephemeral - and I love to recycle the detritus I pick up. Slices off a Christmas card become gift tags or package decorations. A length of cord from a drawstring Apple shopping bag turns into a button closure on a hand-made bag. A torn sheet is remade into a pillowcase. Odd short pieces of yarn are incorporated into a hat for a premature baby.

But that I had more time.

On the other hand, sometimes trash is just trash, like the oriental rug, and sometimes it's head-scratchingly amusing. My sister found a copy of How to Drive Your Woman Wild in Bed in my mother's underwear drawer. Huh? Trash or treasure?

It's a fine line.