I grew up in a neighborhood everyone called Sunset Park, after the giant park nearby.  Sunset Drive, the hub, was the quintessential middle-America-divinity: cul-de-sacs, candy canes on every mailbox at Christmas time, and the best candy at Halloween meaning every one from town came to our area to trick-or-treat.

My brother and I walked the neighborhood endlessly as kids, with our dog in tow and without a leash usually.  We swam in neighbor’s pools, babysat their kids, shared forts and tree houses.  But my favorite part was the old ladies.

For the record, I’m reclaiming the term old lady.  I feel like it sounds bad but I mean it with so much dignity, respect, and reverence that it truly is an honorable title.  The cult of beauty created by companies selling us stuff have really taken away the respect from aging.  Anyways, the old ladies in my neighborhood were the best.  My main gal was Ruth.

Ruth was the kind of woman that made me not afraid to be old.  Her hands were like knotted tree stumps, her skin was wrinkled to infinity, and she walked with a shuffle.  But she never complained, was always laughing and telling me jokes, doing puzzles, baking and gardening.  Her den always had a card table with a puzzle going and sometimes I would sit and work on it while she went about her day.  She always asked me questions and was genuinely interested in me even though I was five, six, seven years old.

From my visits with Ruth came a love for something strange and wonderful and whimsical that has only grown with age: my love of miniatures.  Her kitchen and dining room walls were lined with small shelves and cabinets, full of miniatures.  Glass animals, bronze trees, scenery, a marble, a miniature washing board.  I loved to stare at the tiny details.  Now, you’ll find small things all around my house, some with functions, some without.

My best friend knows this about me and has told me for years about her dollhouse in Tennessee.  I’ve heard about this masterpiece for years, but it wasn’t until Christmas when she moved back there that I started getting pictures.  Without her permission, I wanted to share them today as an introduction to my love of the tiny, as I will be sharing more tiny things I keep around the house.



That tiny sun deck!  I would live all up in that house.



I always wanted an intricate dollhouse but had to settle for copious amounts of Polly Pocket.



So much wicker!  But the kitty on the bed is seriously too cute.



Those floors!  And a dollhouse in a dollhouse!  My eyes are watering!



Busy wallpaper and the tiniest rake and cat food bag ever!



Boys being boys being boys.

When I’m in Tennessee, we are going to play with this dollhouse so tough.


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