I'm slowly playing catch-up with my brooches; they have run far ahead of me. There is now a long conga line of brooches that I've worn so far this year running along the dresser; only when I finally place them here in this blog do they go into my Mom's old cake tin - for want of an empty jewellery box. (Don't worry, they're embraced in soft felt.)
A tiny owl with spooky glittery eyes and that's what I like about it.
This reminds me of my Mom. She had a few of these decorative "bone china flowers in a bowl" objects around the house and I was lucky to receive one of them (they looked like a breeze could blow them over - a breeze couldn't but Bertie, the cat certainly could), but they were hefty in weight. This is a lovely brooch, very delicate and sweet and whispers to me of another time.
I love rocks, every purse I have has one that I picked up on my wanderings, be it near or far. This brooch has a rock (check mark) but it has always looked a little bit like a granny would be wearing it.
A sparkly little one. Who can resist?
No doubt, I picked up this leather Canada Goose in a tourist shop because it has "Canada" stamped on the back and sometimes I like being a tourist in my own country. One of the most wonderful sounds in the world, a sound that stirs my heart, is Canada Geese flying overhead and honking and if you are specially lucky, they are flying low enough that you can hear the whish of the wind through their wing feathers.
Don't you wish you too could be a-dancing to this underwater jive that the octopus is grooving to?
One of my favourites - I wore a necklace to-day so this is the brooch that graces my grey wool winter coat, and I am NEVER changing it for another on this coat as the brooch is perfect for it. Bought it a few years back in Camden Town Market in a building that used to be the Horse Hospital. Each horse stall has the antique/what have you dealers and I bought 3 brooches from one of them. I was in brooch heaven. It garners "I like your brooch" comments from strangers - thank you kind strangers.
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