One item I acquired from my mother's home after she passed away last year was a small hanging lamp from her dining room. It was made out of a plastic flower pot by my grandfather many years ago. He had seen the lamps hanging outside at beach motels and RV parks on one of his winter vacations in Sarasota, FL. He examined their construction, bought the supplies, and started making the lights for himself and friends. The lamp was something you either really liked, or snickered at when passing. Small holes drilled in the pot hold bright colored plastic beads that allow the light from an inserted center bulb to shine through.
Over time the white can has yellowed, some of the beads have fallen out, and I accidently broke the bottom off. But it is a nostalgic memory of both my grandfather and mother. Clever, hand crafted, and a thoughtful gift. I plan to clean it up, replace the cord and chain, and hang it over my cutting table. It's a treasure.
"Thy word is a lamp unto my feet and a light unto my path." Psalm 119:105
Over time the white can has yellowed, some of the beads have fallen out, and I accidently broke the bottom off. But it is a nostalgic memory of both my grandfather and mother. Clever, hand crafted, and a thoughtful gift. I plan to clean it up, replace the cord and chain, and hang it over my cutting table. It's a treasure.
"Thy word is a lamp unto my feet and a light unto my path." Psalm 119:105