My Father is a source of constant wonder and amazement; aloof yet mindful, a rogue that is both charming and strong willed, stubborn and endearing. Perhaps I shouldn't have been surprised then, when my Mother and I were discussing the mornings crafty excursion and my knitting purchases, that my Father inquired as to whether I needed any more knitting needles.
From a drawer in the bench in his workshop he casually produced this unassuming blue case, probably once home to a set long lost silverware, which had belonged to his Mother and her sister.
"You can have them if you like, I didn't think anyone wanted them."
He handed me the case and I nearly fainted as I unlatched the lid. I was stunned at the loveliness of the collection, and the delicacy and care that had gone into the sorting - complete with a list of sizes and quantities. So too the colour pallet, the handwritten sizes taped on carefully and the history of these beautiful, almost forgotten, little objects.
I just love that he has protected this legacy that has come down from the women in his family. That these treasures, catalogued by my Grandmother who passed away last year, have remained safely together for all these years. Including antique tortoise shell needles still in their original paper wrappings.
I plan to use these family heirlooms, but maintain always this unique treasure trove as it was gifted to me.