Aside from the obvious beauty of these darling handmade linens, they are precious to me simply because of the shear amount of work that I know must have gone into them. Most of these were recently rescued from a local thrift shop. After my initial shock that someone would actually even send them there I snatched them up and squirreled them away.
It wasn't until after they were safely home and had been handwashed, starched, pressed and folded that I began to wonder what I was actually going to do with them. It seemed like such a shame to tuck them away in my closet where they wouldn't be displayed.
Gradually they have found homes in my nooks and crannies. One tucked in a little basket on Pepper's dresser, a few decorating the top of our commode, memories of a time when needlecraft was precious and women took pride in their handwork.
As I sit down at my own hoop this morning to begin the day's stitches I contemplate the work of women who came before me and can't help but wonder if one day my projects will also fall through the cracks and be forever lost and forgotten, or if like my thrift store linens they too will be found (and rescued!) by a stranger who sees a value greater than simply having something new.