When I was growing up we lived in a quaint (old) little house in Butte Montana till I was 9. I remember huge flowers ,with equally huge leaves, on a background of yellow. I thought they were beautiful.

Dad worked as a miner for several years then went back to what he had done in the Army during WWII, driving truck. He mostly worked for moving companies, sometimes bringing home fun things the people didn't want. One time after we had moved to Great Falls, he brought home a parrot. He was very colorful, and talked a lot. Unfortunately his language was colorful to. Thank heaven my aunt didn't seem to mind his bad language as much as Mom, he went to her house to live.

I'm not sure why I love furniture that shows some wear, character? Most of it shows the love someone had for it, I imagine who owned it, what they were like. You can make stories for of all the pieces. They change all the time. Busy Mom, busy Dad, Farm people, Things I've seen at my Grandmothers, Nannies, antique shops. ( I grew up with that ) Am I an antique? I do show some wear and I hope character.