Patina and Laugh Lines
This is my maternal grandfather's apple wood sauerkraut stomper. He crafted it himself and used it to "stomp" his grated cabbage when making sauerkraut each year. It's made from Annapolis Valley apple wood (from trees on his farm, if I recall correctly). He passed along his knowledge of kraut-making, and when he died my grandmother passed along his stomper.
I have a deep love of vintage kitchenalia
and antique tools.
I have a deep love of vintage kitchenalia and antique tools. I prefer to use them instead of more modern options whenever it is practical. I feel they take on an energy and develop a "magic" of sorts through their decades of utilitarian function. Their patina is a testament to the importance of their role, however unspoken, to daily life -- the hands that touched them unknowingly passing along a legacy of touching and making and doing that I think about when I see and use them in MY daily life. Wood and crockery, in particular, take on a personality of their own with age. They hold divine honesty in their imperfection.
They hold divine honesty in their imperfection.
They are objects of beauty -- their divots, their hand-worn sheen, and their laugh lines speak to me. They are sturdy. They are strong. As I get older, the gravitas of their continued place in daily life reminds me of my own usefulness and that of Folks much older than I. With age comes wisdom, with repetition comes skill, and these hands that I use to cook and craft and caress have knowledge of their own that will also leave an echo of me behind on these surfaces.