Friday, April 29, 2011

It's Time

Well, Dear Ones,
I am
getting ready for my cross country 
antiquing jaunt
with several friends . . . 

I'll keep you posted on our progress through the week.

Packing the gear:

sounds like bad weather - and boy is that a chore.

Mud boots, for sure  . . . 

raincoat and old clothes . . . 

hat to cover the wet hair . . .

loading a trailer in the rain and wind is 
just soooo much fun!

it's what I do . . .

 rain or shine 
or wind or hail
sort of like the postal service. . . 

bringing you good stuff
no matter what!!!!

Always prowling through someone's barn or shed, 
and can't wait around for the sweet sunny days to do it!

Gotta get out there and brave the elements.

Sometimes the seller gets discouraged because the weather is poor,
and that can occasionally mean the prices are better . . .

and when the day is done and the goods are packed
and I'm washed up and warm and dry again

and lounging in a comfy spot reviewing the day's haul . . . 
having good food and better conversation with
my fellow adventurers . . . 

there's great satisfaction
in a job well done . . . 

and the sense that even tho' it's a dirty job,
somebody's gotta do it . . . 

  just a little bit proud 
and delighted that it was

See you soon! 

Monday, April 25, 2011


It's late
 and rain is tinkling against my windows
 I'm appreciating this weather . . . 

The grass will be
in the morning

and April showers
 will bring

and it will feel so nice to snuggle
under the covers
when I get to my bed

not really cold . . . 
worrying about the pipes freezing
kinda cold . . . 

pulling up the covers 

wearing a favorite sweater to work
sort of

enjoying a second 
cup of coffee
sort of chilly 

knowing we'll be hot and sticky
enough this summer
and being
we can 
 this little
cool spell
to think back on

and appreciate

A little rain
 trickling down
 pulling on socks

 for the flowers
 to bloom

yeah . . . 

Sunday, April 24, 2011

Easter Day

Church this morning,
 with two of my grandchildren along . . .
on the way we listened to sacred classical music.
Fletch, (5 years old), commented that he knew this music -
"Classical baby!"

I participate in our bus ministry for so many older folks who do not drive anymore . . . 
what a blessing to be able to assist them in coming to church!

My little ones rode along . . . and they so appreciated
 the attention of the marvelous men and women
who were riding beside them!

The generational relationships are vital to the understanding of life.

Followed by our pilgrimage up into the mountains
 for a wonderful Easter dinner with family.

My daughter is a terrific cook!

Snow, sleet and rain . . . but comfy and happy inside by the fireplace.
Lots of great food . . . too full . . . and oh so content . . . 
Capped off with that incredible coffee and pie.

It's good to be part of something bigger than ourselves.

I am thankful for the love that surrounds me.

Wednesday, April 20, 2011


Just a few words today . . . 
I'm cleaning, decorating and grocery shopping . . . in preparation for the 
with my dear ones.

I'm looking forward to putting work aside, and spending time with family.

As I de-clutter and dust, I'm aware of how much I enjoy my little home.

My collections of sweet old things give me pleasure
and I'm thinking about





Whether there is any real value in my


or not, 

they are arranged to please my particular taste and style,

and they help create







paper sorting
putting away
trash out
dishwasher unloaded

these are mundane


but they are 

all the steps to achieving


There is such

Sunday, April 17, 2011

The Artist in Our Soul Part 3

Growing up,
 I was privileged to live in a wonderfully sunny, south Florida area, 
with the ocean very close on one hand
 orange groves, horse farms and dairy ranches all about.

Sort of suburban, sort of rural . . . 

After marrying, I migrated to my dream destination
 in the verdant mountains of North Carolina.
There I was enveloped in centuries old first growth forest, pine needles, moss and ferns.

Now in the front range of Colorado with access to the Rocky Mountains . . .

 I have to say
 I've led a blessed life.

I've truly lived in some of the
 incredible places on earth.

We know that beauty is in the eye of the beholder,
we're as happy as we choose to be . . . 
but I can honestly tell you that I've found each of these places to be awesomely beautiful!

There is something to be said for the habit of finding contentment in one's surroundings.

God's creation  
with its' harmony and scale is the basis of beauty to my eye.

I could gaze at the ocean or the mountains forever and not tire of the view.
I delight in sunrises and sunsets, full moons and rain storms.

I have a collection of seashells, beach glass, driftwood, river rocks,
bird feathers, abandoned bird nests, porcupine quills,
 turtle shells, ostrich eggs,
 fossils, arrowheads,
 twigs . . .
pressed four leaf clovers, queen anne's lace, violets . . .
 and every wonderful thing I find when I go hiking.
These are more than mementos . . .
  they speak to my heart.

My grandchildren will visit next weekend, and  
one of their pleasures 
when the weather is nice 
is to take
nature walk 

We generally walk around the neighborhood to see what we can of nature.
There are rocks to pocket and bird feathers to gather, wild flowers and leaves to collect.
We take note of the "cloud pictures", what's in bloom and the sunshine and shadows.
If the weather is warm, we have a place where we remove our shoes and socks, and wiggle our toes in the cool green grass - just to enjoy the sensation of free toes.
We even stop to watch creepy crawly things in the dirt.

Last summer strong winds blew tumbleweed all around my place.  
My 5 year old grandson collected them for hours, piling them against the house where they would be protected from the wind. 
He stocked the porch with a hundred of them, and when I protested
 that 1000 tumbleweeds were enough,
 he offered to share them with neighbors who were outside.
Most of them graciously accepted his bouquets.

To this day,
 I have tumbleweeds decorating my antiques booth at
The Gallery,
because he insisted I should take them to the shop
 and sell them to people who didn't have tumbleweeds!
Cute Kid!  I like the way he thinks!

He was mesmerized with the beauty of these natural elements.

I hope I can inspire
 my little ones
 to enjoy collecting specimens of nature.
It's never too early to begin
  examining the bounty
all around us.
To see the perfection of the Creator's artwork
 is to begin to appreciate and understand
 true beauty,

and to find the
 in our soul

Saturday, April 16, 2011


And the winner is . . . . 

Congratulations Beth B. !!!!

Your name has been drawn from the many entries in the 
Junkin' With Joy Jaunt

You'll be traveling cross country in a few weeks, scouting for the good stuff with 
Joy and Company!

Pack you bags and your boots and sunscreen and granny cart, 
and let's get on the road.

We're heading across several states
 get to the fabulous treasures Joy will bring back to
 Patina Antiques & Home.

I appreciate all the entries in this great event - and due to popular demand
 Joy will be offering this opportunity again
in the future.

Keep your eye on the blog . . . 
cause Joy travels regularly.

Love to you all . . . .


Thursday, April 14, 2011

The Artist in Our Soul Part 2

A cold, rainy, snowy morning, socked in with fog . . . 
reminded me of some early spring days back in the mountains of 
North Carolina.

 spring mornings 
could bring nearly anything . . . 
from soft snow to piercing sleet to a week long blizzard and power outage.
They said it would always snow on
 April 15th,
and it did,
every year for all the years I lived there.

When I moved to North Carolina,
 I purchased a house which had originally been
  a 100 year old barn.
  Soaring ceilings, massive beams, huge stacked rock fireplace, steep, narrow staircase, 
closet tucked beneath the slant of stairs. 
 The windows made of small, leaded, blown glass panels, 
soaring 9 foot high, 
recovered from an old inn which had burned down.
The house nestled in the midst of ancient forest in a tiny clearing,
 bordered by a stream.

Behind, were the remains of an abandoned orchard and grape arbor.
One entire side was deck - lofty - peeking into the tops of the trees.
The bones of this house were perfect!

I felt my creative juices began to flow the moment I saw that house. 
 I knew immediately it had to be mine.
There was something so inviting, so harmonic, so completely romantic about it.

Was it the setting? 
 The light filtering through the trees was perfection.
  The rustling of wind in those leaves?

Was it the repurposed nature of
 barn turned house? 

The sound of the stream could lull me to sleep at night.
Rain on the old tin roof . . . ?
Wildflowers were all about . . . ivy growing along the front porch.

It was one of those days,
 when I first laid eyes on that old place, 
and knew it belonged to me,
I belonged to it.

As if I was 'coming home to a place I'd never been before', 
like John Denver sang.

There was artistry in the design and in the wavy old glass panes and in the site,
and it spoke to
 in my

Wednesday, April 13, 2011

The Artist in Our Soul Part 1

I imagine every person is something of an artist in their own right.
 Whether one paints or bakes, sings or dances, writes poetry or prose,
is a sculptor or dressmaker,
beautician or a bridge builder,
we use our particular abilities to express ourselves to the world.

 I spent many years in my young life determining where I would make my mark -
would I become a writer, a public speaker, an astronaut or a stewardess?

My mother taught me to read when I was four.
 I was voracious, devouring anything and everything I could.  When I started school I discovered the Encyclopedia Britannica, and was immediately fascinated with the
American Presidents and First Ladies.
My mother always told me I could be anything I wanted to be
 when I grew up,
and I wanted to be the

I asked questions . . .
At a tender age I perceived that the President of our country had people who told him
what he could and couldn't do.

I began to consider Queen, instead.

The Queen seemed to have so much more power, and fewer people who bossed her around.
I asked my mother how one went about becoming Queen.
I learned, to my dismay, that you needed to be born into a royal lineage, or to marry into one. . .

. . . this was more complicated than I had initially thought,
but, by the time I was about six, I was set upon finding a prince to marry.
The prince I could find the most written about was Prince Charles of England.
I was not impressed . . .

There was no limit to my imagination, and I was delighted to read everything I could find
about royalty, throughout my elementary school years.
I eventually decided the potential for meeting a suitable prince was limited, so I moved on to other
 professional possibilities.
(truthfully . . . I'm still watching, just in case . . . )

I explored areas . . . specifically those where my personal skills and wishes might be executed
without someone telling me I had to conform to rules.
I determined this profession would need to be in circles where no rules existed.
My mother assured me that rules existed in all areas of life, but wished me luck in my pursuit, and encouraged me to become anything I desired to be.

I was enamored with the potential of being able to create something,
and having no one assert that it was "wrong", or that I couldn't do it my way.
Artists were always right. They expressed their views in their work - and must be accepted for whom they were!

Unfortunately, the art teachers in my elementary years believed in coloring inside the lines.
I was beginning to believe I would need to start my own country.

For the next fifteen years I struggled with my artistry, my self expression, my self realization.
 I married and settled into a new home, and took delight in all aspects of life. . . .
particularly the endeavors of feathering my little nest.

I enjoyed the fact that I could mix paints to achieve the precise shade of wall I wanted.
I decided to paint the four walls of my first living room four ever-so-slightly different shades of the same color, so that daylight moving across them would create a variety of nuances.  Sunrise, mid-day, sunset, evening incandescent light . . . oh, I was in heaven!

I had a huge palette, and could make my world anything I desired!  In the eight years we lived in that home, I painted and repainted and painted again . . . so thrilled to be able to change the mood and ambiance.  I explored the differences in seasonal light, and discovered the variety to be had from cool or warm or full spectrum light bulbs!

Mirrors were magic!  I could reflect and enhance the view, add depth to a room . . .
the possibilities were endless!
I wall papered over the painted walls.
I stripped wallpaper and textured the walls with plaster.
I was queen of my own little country.

To be continued in the next post . . .

Sunday, April 10, 2011

Never Enough Time


Is there ever enough time to accomplish all that we ask of ourselves,
 all that others ask of us, 
and all that we dream of doing?

Rarely does a week end that I don't look over my shoulder and wish I had spent more time

 If there were more hours in a day . . . I lament.
Or, one more day in the week . . . 

Perhaps I should give up sleeping . . . 

I gave up television.
Pulled the cable box and returned it to that confounded cable company
 that takes my money and provides so little to watch.

If I had one day all to myself, without interruption, without expectations, without demands!

Could I puhleese have a snow day or three????
I need the kind where snow piles up and no one can possible expect me to dig out and go anywhere.

I imagine every woman lives in this syndrome.
(Some men as well, but it's chronic for women.)

We seem to be
  wave-tossed in the daily necessities of life:
 family, homemaking, profession, avocation, spiritual growth, creativity, self-improvement, health, ministry to others, planning, juggling, rest . . . 

just keeping up with the
  mail, paperwork and correspondence
is a job.

This is never going to change, 
so I want to approach it from another perspective.

Here are Joy's Top Ten:

1.We all prioritize, and accomplish what we can.
Being busy for 18 hours a day is enough!

2.We delegate, and accept the job as it's done by others.
(Perhaps not exactly as we would have done it, but it's done.)

3.We acknowledge that some things will be promoted to the top of tomorrow's list, 
because there was no way they were getting done today.
Wear those jeans one more time, or pull on your baseball cap to cover those roots.

4.Some things we decline.
Yep!  We just say "NO" when they're served up on our plate.
I can't do that.  Too busy.  Sorry.  Ask me next year.

5.We make time for mini vacations:
facial, pedicure, massage, flea market, date night or dinner with a friend.

6.We praise ourselves for what we did accomplish.
I reward myself for a job well done.
I motivate.

7.We praise each other and give kudos where we can.
(Only a brain surgeon understands how hard another brain surgeon's job is!
Do not expect someone who's never tried to do your job to praise you when you've done it.)

8.We keep close and understanding friends who will lend us a hand, 
and for whom we'll lend our hand when they need us.
It's easier to clean out the basement or your closet with the help of a friend.
Return the favor.
Have chocolate, coffee or ice cream as a reward.

9. We recognize in the very depth of our souls that we are human,
 and cannot possibly be perfect all the time. 
 Occasional perfection is fine! 
 Being consistently adequate is more likely and we'll live longer and more happily!

10.When we're content and peaceful, those who depend on us 
will also be more likely
 to be
 content and peaceful.

So ladies, breathe deeply,
have a second cup of coffee,
rely upon your girlfriends for support and affirmation, 
and get as much done as you're able.

Your smiling faces are testimony to the love you pour into your world.
I'm proud of you!

Thursday, April 7, 2011

What It Means To Be Southern, Part 3

I grew up hearing a sweet vernacular in the south.  
There are particular phrases I rarely hear anymore, but which carry me back in an instant
 to a gentler time.

They were the colloquialisms of people whose ancestors immigrated from rural Ireland, England and Scotland, settled in the Appalachian mountains, and bore generations of hardworking rural descendants.

They were clannish, in the sense that communities remained secluded and outsiders had little influence on them for 150 years or more.  
They spoke in the rural dialects brought with them.

Though, over time, as they became more integrated with other society their
 language patterns evolved, melded and became more modern,
some idiosyncrasies continued.  

There is haunting folk music from these indigenous people
 that can barely be considered American English.
It's unique qualities have all but died out with the 
great - great - great - grandchildren
 of  those who sang it.

Along with the old language idioms
there are some strangely unique phrases that you're just not likely to hear anywhere else.

When I was a child, I learned if you can't run with the big dogs, just stay on the porch.
When everything was going great, you were in high cotton.
If things were going poorly, you had a hard row to hoe.
If you thought you could do something, you "might could".
Usually, you needed to do what you were told to do, but occasionally you got to have your druthers.
(You could do what you'd rather do.)

One of my girlfriends has a couple of particularly southern phrases 
that I always get a chuckle from:

"That town, (store, party, street, etc.), is so empty
 you could swing a dead cat and not hit anybody."
Truth is, you could have swung anything and not hit anybody,
but the dead cat is a really great effect.

And, in defining a stranger,
 "Why, we didn't know him from Adam's house cat."

If you wanted to eliminate something, you were gettin' shed of it.
In the south, a person who doesn't take proper care in examining an item before buying it,
(or a potential spouse, before marrying them), 
has bought a 
"pig in a poke".  

(To understand that, you'd have to know that a poke is a burlap bag, 
through which you wouldn't know if the pig was worthy or not.)
You might say they fell for something they should have been bright enough to see coming.

If a thing is supposed to be a certain way, you may hear that it
"belongs to be".
Example: "Don't those children belong to be in school?" 

There was a particular fondness for archaic words, and people were known to:
hanker after something,
conjure up an idea,
cipher the price of an item,
dawdle around instead of getting on with the job,
jaw about things, or jaw someone's ear off,
and occasionally to be tetched,
(which could mean to be affected by, or made insane by something, such as grief, or too much sun.)

When someone is preparing to do a task,
or even just thinking about it,
they're "fixing to" get it done.
I suppose they had a variety of issues pertaining to the subject, 
that they needed to organize or assemble before actually
  doing the job.

 is the accepted hyphenation for "you ones", which is an endearing term of possession.
(Similar to my dear ones.)

To "set a spell" pertains to settling in for a time, as in, 
"y'uns jes set a spell an have some of this pie."

 in the south!

Tuesday, April 5, 2011

What It Means To Be Southern, Part 2

Wow - I'm getting some feedback now!

I continue with my tongue in cheek rendition of
  what it means to be "southern"
with more from my southern friends point of view.

She tells me there are many distinguishing characteristics of the north
 that differ from those of the south.
For example:

The north has sun-dried tomatoes,
 the south has mater sandwiches.

The north has coffee houses,
 the south has Waffle Houses.

The north has dating services, 
the south has family reunions.

The north has switchblade knives, 
the south has Lee Press-on Nails.

The North has cream of wheat,
 the south has grits.

The north has double last names,
the south has double first names.

The north has green salads,
 the south has collard greens.

The north has lobsters, 
the south has crawfish.

Do not be surprised, she says,
 to find that
  10 year olds have their own shotguns.
  They are proficient marksmen, 
and their Mammas taught them how to shoot.

Lastly, remember . . . 
If you do settle in the south and bear children, 
don't think we will ever accept them as Southerners.  

After all, just because the cat has kittens in the oven,
 y'all can be sure we won't be
 callin' them biscuits.

Monday, April 4, 2011

What It Means To Be Southern

I recently wrote a blog that drew a myriad of comments about my being 

I think it's fun to compare notes on our backgrounds, and on
which seem prototypically regional.

Several of us shared customs we perceive to be suggestive of the areas in which
 we were raised, and we found we were making fun of ourselves.

Being from the south, I have no problem "telling on" southerners.
We all know the stereotypes are just that, and no more,
and that there are
  silly stereotypes
about any given group of people.

A friend emailed me the funniest list of southern stories, stereotypes and silliness . . . 
and I'm going to share it with you over the next few days.

Be careful with whom you share these silly stories, and if you're going to be
  makin' fun of my family,
then you're going to be in a
  heap a' trouble.

 If you're from the northern states and planning on visiting or moving to the south, there are a few things you should know that will help you adapt to the difference in lifestyle.

If you run your car into a ditch, don't panic.  Four men in a four-wheel drive pickup truck with a tow chain will be along shortly.  Don't try to help them, just stay out of their way. 
 This is what they live for.

Don't be surprised to find movie rentals and bait in the same store. 
 Don't buy food at this store.

"y'all" is singular, "all ya'll" is plural, and "all y'all's"is plural possessive.

The first southernism to creep into a transplanted northerner's vocabulary is the adjective
"big ole" . . . 
as in big ole truck or big ole boy
 Most northerners begin their southern-influenced dialect this way. 
 All y'all
 are in denial about it.

Be advised that 
"He needed killin",
is a valid defense in the south.

If you hear a good ole boy exclaim, 
"hey y'all, watch this!"
you should stay out of the way.  
These are likely to be the last words he'll ever say.

I'm just sayin' . . . 
these are a few things y'all might need to know!

To be continued in tomorrow's post . . . 


Patina Antiques and Home
@ 5280 South University Boulevard
Greenwood Village, CO 80121
Intersection of University Boulevard and Orchard Road
in the Cherry Crest Shopping Center.

Ranked by 
5280 Magazine as Denver's 
of antiques shops

and featured in

Joy And The Junk Posse


Join Joy and her Junk Posse
 as we travel cross country 
the first week of May,
 seeking treasure.


1.)     Become a follower of this 
antiques by joy
blog . . .
leave me a comment, so I know you were here!

2.)     From this page,
click on the Facebook link, and 
"like" the Facebook page.
Leave a comment there.

Simple - you're entered in the contest.
(if you're not on Facebook, 
just join the blog here as a 'follower'.)

May 1-8 are our travel dates!
Drawing on April 15th 

Not able to take a trip with Joy?
Follow the steps above and let me know .
When you're in the shop, claim your 
 off any one "JOY" item
 you purchase!

Saturday, April 2, 2011

Share your thoughts With Me

Share your thoughts about the blog, antiques, your favorite place to shop . . .

Leave a comment
here at my blog. 

 to hear your thoughts!

Thank you,

Friday, April 1, 2011

Picking in The Old Days Part 6

Not a day goes by without someone saying to me,
"I wish I could do what you do". 
"You have the most perfect job in the world".

You know, I think they're absolutely right. 
I do what I love, and I love what I do.

That doesn't mean it's easy . . . 

There are picking days when I come home sunburned, mosquito bitten, scratched, bruised and/or punctured by a rusty nail.
I've had muscles pulled, discs slipped, bones crushed, nails smashed, (toes and fingers) . . .
There are days when I vow I'm going to sell only items 
weighing less than 2 pounds.
I've worked in rain, hail, snow, high winds, scorching heat and suffocating humidity.

Once in Texas, as I was hauling a load of treasures to the truck,
 a vendor approached me and said, 
"you come sit down - you look like you're 
going to faint from
 heat stroke." 

 He then proceeded to pour a bottle of water over my head.
Friendly guy . . . he probably saved me from keeling over in the 
102 degree heat.
There's nothing like Texas hospitality!

Speaking of hospitality,
 there are few people anywhere
 as friendly as junkers
 for kindness, helpfulness and hospitality.

They lend a hand loading and unloading trailers and trucks. 
They'll hook up and pull your rig from the mud you've spun yourself into.
They'll take you home to supper and tell you where the next great pickin' spot is.

They're known for inviting you to join them 
rocking on the front porch with an iced tea
 at the end of a long hard day.

They share stories, and welcome weary travelers,

and bake some really fine pies
in my experience. 

We may look a little rough around the edges,
a mite frayed and scuffed,
but hard work has it's reward.

Grandmother always said that!


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