Vacation’s over. Time to get to work—scare up a project or two, roll up the shirt sleeves and apply some muscle. God knows there are enough of them (projects, I mean) lying around waiting to be ticked off the list. One of the great things about passing time in an old country barn is that “things to do” practically leap out at you. There’s always something to be cleaned or maintained or loved or re-fashioned.

There’s long been a collection of lovely, old things lying around that don’t quite make it into modern life. They’re almost broken. Almost functional. Almost beautiful. Most definitely long past their prime. Relics of the way things were. I grabbed up as many as I could a year or so ago, cleaned them, repaired them if I could and put them to use where it was possible to do so. A broken whetting stone. Munitions boxes from World War II. Barrel staves. Tools. A broken ladder. I love these old things far more than I love any new ones. So this time, I took the ladder, some planks of wood and the old saw, and made myself a gardening étagère.

There wasn’t much to do, except saw. And saw. And saw. It took me and my girlie arms an entire day of sawing and sweating to make the pieces—the handle of the saw was disintegrating in my damp palm by the end of it all—and the following sunny morning to assemble. It’s not pretty, but it’s just what I’d envisioned. First job, planting that lovely purple-flowered cat mint, and putting in three “Caramel” coral bells. The undersides of the leaves are a beautiful, rich magenta which plays beautifully against the ivy and the hot pink anemones, rocketing upward in the plant next door. Ah gardening…but that’s another story for another time…