CIMG2506

Losing your marbles

Keep cleaning them kiddies.

It has been a lot of fun getting my mum’s collections ready to show for this blog. We clean, dust and talk about all the pieces. There is something special about touching the precious goods. They are usually something you look at, not touch, so you feel a little bit naughty. I’ve really enjoyed chatting with my mum and hearing her tales about her collections. I’ve learnt so much from the story telling that comes with the territory of collections.

My children have become part of the craze too. Mum gave them her collection of marbles to “clean”, look at and keep busy. ¬†What fun! Great conversations entailed. Mum shared stories on how marbles were played. Their eyes grew wide when they learnt you got to keep someone’s marble if it was shot out of the circle. They didn’t like it that their marble could be taken home by another child.

The marbles were living at the bottom of a bowl with serviette rings on top of them. We decided that this wasn’t a suitable way to display them effectively, especially with nine grandchildren around. We took them out, popped the marbles into two old bottles and gave them a fancy lid. The bottles were given a place in the home where people would see them and children could touch them- like they were made to do.

Look at the end result. In a fantastic spot where the sun can catch them. A place where people walk past, reminisce and enjoy the collection. It’s what it’s all about, right? Do you remember a collection in your parents home that you were/ weren’t allowed to play with? What was it?

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This entry was published on May 23, 2012 at 7:32 am. It’s filed under Glassware, Other and tagged , , . Bookmark the permalink. Follow any comments here with the RSS feed for this post.

One thought on “Losing your marbles

  1. My mother had an old printers tray filled with small treasures and momentos. It was a constant source of fascination for kids of all ages, as every little thing had a story that went with it. There was the necklace worn by me as a baby in the hospital when I was born so they knew I was baby Barnaby (which Mum “stole” from the hospital), a miniature bible, almost too small to be opened, a locket containing my sister’s first curl, and my father’s first cigarette lighter. New things were added all the time. It was right above the dinner table which meant that we often spent time telling the stories of the new things over family dinners.

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