Blue Mason Jars

A few months ago, I ran across a blog entry that featured a blue mason jar. I fell instantly in love. I went online and found both blue and purple mason jars for sale. But, being the cheap-o I am, I couldn't bring myself to pay for the shipping. Partly because I knew, I *just* knew there had to be one at Ben's grandparents' farm with my name on it.


And perhaps it was because my mason jar radar was on, but one of the first things I saw when we visited them in May as a cluster of blue mason jars filled with marbles and buttons sitting in the window. As we sat there eating Aunt Laurie's peach pie and drinking strong coffee, my youngest child brain was working overtime - I knew they were cleaning out their basement that very weekend, and I knew there had to be more of those jars downstairs. I excused myself to go check on Sully and end up spending most of my time staring lovingly at the beautiful jars. It stirred up all the courage I needed. I returned to the table and said, "I really love your blue jars. I've been looking for a jar like that." I could feel every first-born muscle in Ben's body tense up, but my comment led Laurie to tell us a wonderful story about shopping for buttons at the Pendleton outlet with Ben's great grandmother. Grandma said, "Dave, surely we have another jar downstairs." They promised that they would look, and Grandma said, "Don't worry, Dear, we'll put your name on it."

This weekend Ben's parents brought me my own blue mason jar - even more wonderful than I could have hoped, and it, literally, had my name on it, written in Grandma's tiny, impeccable scrawl.

I had hoped to use it as a worry jar - a place to deposit all the worries I don't need to have wrecking havoc on my concentration. But now that I have this jar, it seems far too beautiful for such a burdensome task. I'm also thinking about using it to hold the nib holders for my new ventures in calligraphy. And the homegrown lavender my mother-in-law put in it looks quite lovely, too. What's your vote, Internet?

Now if only I could find a purple one...


P.S. As I was proofing this entry, I nearly broke into tears when I looked at the first photograph. In the background, you can see the print hanging in our living room. My grandmother had the same print hanging in her home, and I spent hours imaging those three girls were me and my sisters. Having a photo that captures something from my grandmother's home and Ben's grandmother's (and probably his great grandmother's) home and how we've incorporated them into our home feels really special to me.