I live only a couple of miles away from where my Grandmother lived when I was a girl. But the fifties in New Mexico were longer ago than they are for most other places in the country. By that I mean that visiting my Grandma every weekend was more like visiting the thirties. We were that far behind the times then, and in many ways still are. We pumped a handle for a drink of cool water from a communal tin cup. That was the only plumbing on the premises. Dish water drained to the flower bed outside the kitchen window. The privy was out back. Grandma cooked tortillas on top of a cast iron woodstove summer and winter. So when I pine for "vintage" it's not just a fantasy. I prefer old to new. Patina over polished. Handmade versus made in China. And never more than in summer. . .
A vintage tablescape of last summer.
Seashells in a vintage ironstone serving bowl.
Vintage knows no country.
Crisp cornered summery white linens.
Can plastic ever get a chippy finish like this vintage garden urn?
Wildflowers in company with an old cracked pitcher.
Old metal garden stands are as coveted as someone else's slice of chocolate cake!
A hand crocheted tablecloth beneath dappled sunlight.
Gleaming ironstone pitchers.
For old-fashioned girls.
I even like dreaming in vintage!
I hope you're finding a bit of summertime vintage inspiration too!
Ciao! for now!
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