I have never been the type to collect anything, but I understand the desire too. I think this is mainly because my fierce and feisty 91 year old Great Aunt Irene has been spending most of her life collecting owls.
Yep, that’s right, I said owls. Yesterday I counted 243 and I’m sure that I missed a few.
They are all over her house:
In the banister.
On the cupboards.
On the cookie jar (see the wee little one up top!)
As a lamp or in a tea set.
Above the stove.
Needlework on the walls.
Big dining room clock.
Hanging on the walls.
Greeting you by the driveway.
Watching you from the walls.
Sleeping on the bathroom towels.
Watching over the basement TV room (Hi Dad!)
And winking from the hand towels 😉
It must be nice to enjoy something so much that you surround yourself with it. I’m sure that she wakes up every morning and smiles at all her little friends looking back at her. I know that I can’t look at an owl without thinking about her.
