Well, you keep going...

Good day....

After you've left my bedside dresser, you keep going down the wall, making  a turn to the left (from the in-bed perspective) and skipping Theo's closet, and you come to another dresser. This is a beautiful (to me) old handmade dresser, American walnut.  The maker did a beautiful job.  And, after he finished, he took a thin brush dipped in black paint and went around the grain of the wood on all surfaces.  You can't see the paint lines much on the top and sides, because those areas are now so dark. And you wonder why he did it? Why gild the lily of beautiful American walnut? Well, I love it now, though I have had my doubts over the years.  Why not accentuate the wood grain?

I bought that chest from a lady over on that fascinating part of Hillcrest beyond First Avenue amongst the canyons. She owned a largish red-brick house which is still there, though there was a terrible fire in it shortly after I bought the chest.  I was glad I saved it before the conflagration. It cost forty-five dollars and was worth every penny.

The dresser top's inhabitants change from time to time, but now there is a beautiful square blue and white china platter with a rock collection on it: a rock from Stonehenge, a rock from Petra,The Rose Red City Half as Old as Time brought to me by a friend, and several small stones of the round and flat ilk that are my favorite size and shape in found stones...and a big egg shaped one with an unbelieveable design IN THE ROCK that looks as if there were a message and meaning in it.  Also on top of the dresser there is a small Scottish glass decanter with a thistle cut into it, and a crimson ribbon adorning it.  I tremble for it because it is fragile and would break for sure if it went down. Ah well, so would we all.

Over the dresser are, one, a beautiful old old Scottish fly-specked mirror that I bought at Unicorn Antiques in the days when they were over scouring through the lower grade antiques of Scotland.  Wish I'd bought everything they brought back.  The mirror has become steadily more grayish and speckled over the years, and --so have I, so we go well together. 

 Also over the mirror are pictures of my children, number one and his wife and children, number two in his wheelchair/recumbrance, and number three as a very young man, among them.  I look at them every day and wish I could talk with them, as a good mother should.

There are also cobwebs, which we'll skip, and a basket on the floor behind the door with a yoga mat, dumbbells and other paraphernalia of exercise.
And we have come to the door to the hall (it isn't a very big room) and a good place to stop for the day.  YAZZYBEL