I have quite a collection of baskets. None of which, I have paid the market asking price for. I have purchased mine at garage sales, for a few cents, very likely paying close the what the creator of the basket may have been paid.
I got to thinking about my baskets after reading Tanya's post "Hell in a Handbasket."
It reminded me how much I love my baskets. I love the natural colour of the cane, & the differing shapes I have. I just love their handmadeness.
Mine are certainly suitable for going to Hell in. The particular one I have shown in the photo is the only one that hasnt been banished downstairs, in preparation for the Great Carpet Laying.
It does not have a flat base. It wont sit flat. But I like it all the same.
I have various sizes, of baskets. Some are empty, most contain a WIP (work in progress) of some sort, or just some fabric I like.
I know they are really impractical for storing things. They dont stack, they are the wrong shape for tucking into corners. They take up more space than they need to. But, I still love them. I like them for fruit, or eggs in the kitchen. Not that any of mine are used for that purpose.
GOM fails to see the attraction in the baskets. He cannot understand my love for them at all. But he tolerates my basket passion, so I cant ask more than that!
Perhaps if I was a poet, I could write an Ode to a Basket!
Today is to see the carving out of the Evil Fang.
I have been trying not to think about it.
There was supposed to be a visit from a floor person, to fix the soft mushy spot outside the bathroom door. He will not be here till tomorrow morning at 7.30am.
I have made plans to booby trap the underfloor & do him a serious mischief
I had several colourful thoughts when I was told that news. I am sure I will be in no state to complain tomorrow. I have been warned my jaw will be EXTREMELY swollen.
Slava Grigoryan's whole album, Another Night in London. Very soothing.