These two photographs were taken the day after the blizzard, on my birthday. I spent most of the morning nursing my cold, but late in the afternoon the gentleman insisted we take a drive. The wind was blowing snow over the roads, filtering the late-day sun in the most extraordinary way.
We ended up at a local antiques mall, known more for its piles of junque and used books than for fine antiques. Housed in an old chicken barn, the place is a family favorite and has yielded some real treasures over the years. With only 45 minutes before closing, we quickly scanned the booths, not expecting to find much. But then, out of the corner of his eye, the gentleman spotted the loveliest bird cage Windsor chair, c. 1810. The price was right (plus the 20% after-Christmas discount) ~ so happy birthday to me! Our first joint acquisition of a piece of furniture. After some research, the gentleman believes it to by Samuel Gragg of Boston, almost identical to this chair.
Exciting furniture finds aside, I have generally celebrated my birthdays without much fanfare. It is nice to have a day you can call your own, when you can selfishly revel in doing nothing. Sandwiched between Christmas and the New Year, my birthday is generally lost in the shuffle. Friends often apologize for passing it by, but honestly, I really like the quiet.