It is this thermometer/barometer/humidity meter:
|Wrinkly fabric sample background, because I'm classy like that.|
Mom decided to update and rearrange the art and other items hanging in her living room, and the barometer was getting the boot.
Now I'm famous for adopting items I feel sorry for, and I certainly feel sorry for Mr. Barometer, serving so faithfully for so many decades and then being deemed dated. Oh the humidity! (Sorry. I can't help myself.)
This was one of the most fundamentally familiar objects of my childhood. I don't know how long my mother has had it, but I wouldn't be in the least surprised if I was chewing my baby fists under the weather dials. I don't remember it ever not being around.
It's actually a pretty typical decor item from the 50's and 60's. There has been one in this house before, in the den/front room. See it hanging under the clock?
Mine has the broken pediment and column style typical of a lot of Colonial style furniture popular at the time, which makes it a good fit for my house. It surprised me how sentimental I became at the idea of my mom hauling it away to Goodwill.
Right now it's gone to live with other things I have leaning against the wall on the top of my living room credenza, awaiting their perfect place and forever home. That's a Grant Wood print and a little birdie painted by my sister (my wax and airplane plants photobombed the shot, the rascals.)
Have you ever rescued something from your own history? Did it surprise you how sentimental you felt about it?