Okay I admit it I have a penchant for 'found' things. You know, stuff found by the side of the road, or put out by the trash. These items actually beg me to stop and peruse. Although I admit that the thought of rummaging through other people's castoffs make me feel well---a little dirty; everything is my muse. My little hobby however mortifies my husband, so I have learned to go on these forays by myself.

Hopped up on caffeine, my imagination runs wild. That wicker basket would be perfect for my cloth dinner napkins. An old White Owl cigar box with lid in tact cries out to be decoupaged with some Victorian paper with cherubs. An ornate button hot-glued on for a handle would make it the perfect place to corral my makeup, hairpins or buttons.

There have been items that I had no idea what they were. Like the wrought iron two-tier basket-like thingy with a pole in the center separating the two tiers. With three iron feet curling inward, it stood about 3 feet off the floor. Can you imagine someone throwing this away? 

Then there was the bench that my neighbor put out by the curb. I saw it one Saturday morning as my husband and I headed out to run some errands.  It reminded me of the two that stood sentry on both sides of a wooden table under the trees in our back yard when I was growing up. All too familiar with my body language when I spot some treasure, he said, "I know what you are thinking and we are not stopping." 

No matter: I had already told myself that if it was still there when we returned I was going to get it. I think he knew it too. Cleaned up, spray- painted say-- green; perhaps adding a floral cushion, it would be a wonderful place to sit with a cup of tea and admire my flowers in the coming months.

I could blame this obsession on some affliction. Truth is, I come from long line of people who recycled before recycling was politically correct. Reared during the depression taught my mother to be frugal. And she passed the frugal gene down to my sister and me,. so nothing usable was ever thrown away.

The wrought iron basket item spray painted gold topped with a round mirror; another found item, made a great table next to my husband's lounge chair, and resided in several of the military houses that we lived in the twenty years we spent in the Air Force.

Still after 32 years together, some things are bound to rub off on a person. For recently my husband bought home a small, wicker birdcage that he purchased for a dollar at a yard sale. We don’t have a bird. He said he thought that ‘I might do something with it’. ‘Spray paint it or something’. Smiling, two thoughts spring to mind. One that you really can teach old dog new tricks, and every now and again, you find something worth keeping.