We were on vacation this summer. Just a quick jaunt to a cute mountain town we’d never been to.
We’d just arrived and decided to walk up the street to check out the main street. We walked past many old, run-down, closed storefronts.
That’s when I spied a treasure in the woodpile. A huge woodpile from one of those torn-apart storefronts. Who knows how long this wood had been outside?
I know that most people would just walk past and think nothing of it.
But one piece. One piece, in particular, caught my eye. We are on our way to eat. We’d been in the car for hours and my family was hungry. They weren’t gonna stop and wait for me to examine a wood pile.
So I kept walking.
But that piece of wood was nagging me. In the back of my mind. I was wondering why the wood was there. Did the pile belong to someone? Did they have plans for the wood? And most importantly – did they care about that piece I’d spied???
I really needed to know.
But each time we walked to and from our rental, no one was outside the old storefront. I was SO tempted to take the piece, but it wasn’t mine to take. I needed permission.
Then on our last day, as we walked up the hill, I noticed a truck and men outside the building. Could they know something about the wood pile? Should I ask them? We were on our way to eat breakfast and as we walked past I got the courage to ask them what they knew about the woodpile and if I could take that special piece I’d been eyeing.
They looked at me like I was crazy. I know they were wondering why in the world I wanted an old piece of wood.
They said I could ~ I could take as much as I wanted. I was thrilled! I practically did a jig.
The men laughed at me. My family laughed at me. But I didn’t care. I took the piece I’d been eyeing and carried it to breakfast. Yep, it came to the restaurant with us. My family thought I was crazy, but they really weren’t surprised.
Then after breakfast, on our way back, we walked past the wood pile and the men working, and one of the men stopped me. He’d spied something inside he thought I might want, too.
And boy was he right! He took me back into the boughs of this old shell of a store, back to the back where there were old doors, old metal garden chairs, and old window frames (oh the amazing old pieces!!!) and handed me this ~ this amazing old round wood newel post cap.
The layers of paint. How worn and old it looks. The cracks and grooves in the wood. You can’t replicate this.
Isn’t it amazing!
Oh, how my heart lept for joy!
I brought those two special, old wood pieces back home with me with no plans on how to use them.
But I’m working on it.
You’ll see them soon.
On a table.