Dresden Rose

This “heat dome” covering the East Coast like a lid on top of microwaved bacon has been less than fun. The humidity is so thick, I feel as if I need to grow gills. Running around to the grocery store etc. is just torture. I know, it’s nothing compared to the searing heat of an African drought, so I need to stop complaining. First world problems, eh?

As during the pandemic when we were stuck at home, I decided to tackle those projects, rooms, drawers, and filing cabinets that I’d ignored for far too long. One of them involves facing my china addiction. No, not the country. Plates, cups, saucers, luncheon plates, serving platters, you name it, I have it all in nine different sets. Before you laugh yourself silly, some of it was inherited. A lot of it is one pattern I started collecting when I was just 20 years old and have added to over the years. Other patterns were inherited or gifted to me.

I’m still in love with my grandmother’s Dresden rose china. It’s gorgeous. Hand painted with a melange of flowers, gold rimmed, it’s from two different makers, Schumann and Meissen. She bought it in the early 1920s in Germany, and it has survived over one hundred years because she, and my mom, treated it like the works of art that it is. I think I have used it once. Part of me tells me to let it go, but the stronger me says that’s just not going to happen. Every time I pull it out of its storage boxes, I feel thrilled at such practical and stunning beauty. I think I have to give up weeding out the china boxes. It feels a bit like deciding which child is going to be kicked out of the family.

On to the next project . . . .