My teddy bear. He’s slightly older than I am, and recently celebrated his 40th birthday. Yes, those are bald spots on his head, forehead, and belly, where I loved his fur off straight through to the burlap fabric of his body. He also had a squeaky in his left paw, but the rubber bellows that made it squeak have long since rotted away. Poor ol’ much-loved bear.
My frosted glass salad set reflected in the polished surface of the hutch I inherited from my grandmother. Salad set: Hazel Atlas “Gay Fad - Ivy”, ca. 1947. Hutch: Ethan Allen, ca. 1965.
Diamond quilt patterned antique glass pitcher with silver-plated lids and handle, plus its matching, complete ice sleeve insert.
This is an oddity in my collection. I found it about 15 years ago. The poor lovely was thick with dust and heavily patinated with tarnish, tucked away on a low shelf in a quiet section of an antiques co-op. Something about the graceful curve of the handle and the sharp studs of the diamond quilting drew me right to it. Which was odd for me, yes.
Because I collect Depression Glass…
Green Depression Glass!
And this nice, old pitcher is neither green nor from the Depression. I’m not an expert with this type of glass, but I believe it’s from the late 1940’s to the 1950’s. It’s got a makers mark I don’t recognize, and… That’s all I know about it.
Sure, it’s the oddball in among my painstakingly-matched pieces of green DG. But it’s the perfect oddball for setting out when all that green clashes.
Which it does.
Green can be so temperamental. Sheesh.
I guess an object just sings out when the right person for it comes along. That’s the only explanation I have for the dreamy “Oh, there’s my pitcher! I’ve been looking for you, you naughty thing!” feeling that came over me when I saw it.