From the old box
When I see the antique herbarium, my heart skips a beat. How I love this and I've never seen it before. I love the atmosphere, the smell and everything else surrounding it.
What a beautiful cover and the dried leaves and flowers are so beautifully preserved. This whole thing will be about a hundred years old.
In my mind's eye I can see how someone with great care and love picked all this and dried it with great care and then pasted it into this book.
I picture a young lady with a large sun hat with fluttering ribbons and a basket in her arms where she carefully places the picked finds and then gets to work with them at home.
It reminds me of my own herbarium that I once made. I was training to become a kindergarten teacher at the time and we were given the assignment to create a herbarium. First we learned to identify plants and flowers using a booklet. Once I started doing it, I couldn't stop. It was great to do and it completely cleared my head. I have spent many hours walking around on country roads and forest edges with my book and a basket. My father made me a beautiful flower press. I remember exactly what my herbarium looked like.
I glued the dried plants and flowers on black paper leaves and wrote the Latin names underneath in beautiful white letters.
And so a few days ago I ended up in the attic looking for it. Unfortunately I couldn't find it anywhere anymore. Would I ever have thrown it away? I suddenly get a huge feeling of regret. I now see how precious it is to keep something like that.
I've looked everywhere, in all the old boxes, but I haven't found it anywhere.
And among the dust and cobwebs, I found the collections of poems that I wrote at the same time in one of those old boxes.
These were also assignments from the course. I forgot I ever made them.
I had so much fun making these booklets.
And suddenly that time comes back, just like that, out of the old box.
There are memories attached to all those poems; beautiful and less beautiful… as it goes in life.
And if you know me a little, you know that finding these books and all those memories give rise to a lot of musings. And suddenly the morning is over.
The antique herbarium will also be full of all kinds of memories and I think that is what I like so much about something like this. It is so much more than a product to sell; memories from an old box...
What a beautiful cover and the dried leaves and flowers are so beautifully preserved. This whole thing will be about a hundred years old.
In my mind's eye I can see how someone with great care and love picked all this and dried it with great care and then pasted it into this book.
I picture a young lady with a large sun hat with fluttering ribbons and a basket in her arms where she carefully places the picked finds and then gets to work with them at home.
It reminds me of my own herbarium that I once made. I was training to become a kindergarten teacher at the time and we were given the assignment to create a herbarium. First we learned to identify plants and flowers using a booklet. Once I started doing it, I couldn't stop. It was great to do and it completely cleared my head. I have spent many hours walking around on country roads and forest edges with my book and a basket. My father made me a beautiful flower press. I remember exactly what my herbarium looked like.
I glued the dried plants and flowers on black paper leaves and wrote the Latin names underneath in beautiful white letters.
And so a few days ago I ended up in the attic looking for it. Unfortunately I couldn't find it anywhere anymore. Would I ever have thrown it away? I suddenly get a huge feeling of regret. I now see how precious it is to keep something like that.
I've looked everywhere, in all the old boxes, but I haven't found it anywhere.
And among the dust and cobwebs, I found the collections of poems that I wrote at the same time in one of those old boxes.
These were also assignments from the course. I forgot I ever made them.
I had so much fun making these booklets.
And suddenly that time comes back, just like that, out of the old box.
There are memories attached to all those poems; beautiful and less beautiful… as it goes in life.
And if you know me a little, you know that finding these books and all those memories give rise to a lot of musings. And suddenly the morning is over.
The antique herbarium will also be full of all kinds of memories and I think that is what I like so much about something like this. It is so much more than a product to sell; memories from an old box...