I was very, very young. And truthfully, the memories I have are likely not those of my brother or sister, or even my parents, so if they should read this post, I beg them to close their eyes and try to see through my own eye’s memory…just this once.
This is going to take a whole lot of imagination, but I think we can do this…I want you to look at only the left side of this photo frame….the old farmhouse. What? Doesn’t look like a farmhouse to you? Well look past to the posts/the columns and the brick stairs….that is what I want you to see.
Do you have the visual?
Now, picture me about 6 or 7 years old. And upon driving up to this house, this is what I saw…lush grass, yes, but it was that TREE! It was huge, and it was inviting. Why? Because beneath it were all kinds of moss….soft, green, and lush like the grass….the perfect bed and resting spot for…..
Now tell me, who doesn’t love an old farmhouse? No, really…..think about it. In today’s world, we romanticize those broken apart homes and see what they may still become, many thanks to Chip & Joanna Gaines. Or – we retailers romanticize them and restore them just enough so that we can display our wares within them and send you back into a time that you truly just want to have in the present-day! Point in case….I love this photo. Why? Where to begin?!? The old door that I’m sure invited many a weary traveler inside….the flakey blue paint (what we now can “patina”) begging a story be told of the soldier returned home from war, hand resting on that door frame, form bent over the love he came to see….or is it the tangled shrubs in the forefront of the photo, indicating a hard life with little time to cook, and no time to prune shrubbery. Maybe, like me, you saw a sink like this in the kitchen of the old farmhouse. I had a great grandmother as big around as she was tall….always donning a faded, flour-smeared apron, and as best my memory recalls, fresh-baked pies pulled out of the oven and propped on that sink shelf to cool. Why, I still smell the blend of apples and cinnamon wafting up and out that open window, curtains fluttering out as the breeze scurries inside, me and my sister all curled up on that bed of moss – happy to be playing with our dolls while the adults carried on their boring conversations inside.
I’m sure you are wondering where this story is going? Let’s cut to the quick, before I lose your interest! I am taking you to present-day…and a real beauty…This farmhouse sits on a plot of land near and dear to us….it was built in the 1920’s and the creaking floors – oh, if they could only tell their tales! The grass outside is indeed lush. And the owner of this house-turned-business? My friend, Melissa Ward. Yes, please meet the owner of……
As I said in the beginning of this story….the gift goes on. The stories continue on this hillside and within this house, only now they are stories of restoration. No, not just stories of restoring furniture (though you will discover ways in which to do just that). Stories more of restoring lives, friendships and days-thought-lost or at best, forgotten. Because when you walk through the doors of The Tin Roof Antique Market, you are immediately absorbed back in time.But on this day, you see hand-painted floors inspiring you to venture deeper inside, beckoning you to enjoy the journey before you…a journey inspired by vintage appeal, antique furnishings and relics and the very people who lived to tell their stories through the inspiration of these now vendors-turned-artists.With Fall in the air, and so much to be thankful for, why not start your day this coming Saturday at The Tin Roof Antique Market and explore not only the rooms inside the farmhouse, but the grounds outside as well. Melissa has a Fall Fair planned for you that will knock the socks off anything else you may find to do….so bring your family, bring your appetite for vintage and stories unfolding, and bring your desire to restore your own heart to a time long past, yet yearning to be remembered, and retold. And who knows? You may find a restoration story inside of you begging to be told…and Melissa will be just the one with ears to hear.
~Blessings in your journey!