jmgoyder

wings and things

Thank you, Jill

In all of the decluttering and re-organising of this household/farm I have made some wonderful friends like Dina (Chaos to Clear), Mike (antique valuer from Australind Timeless Wares and Collectibles), and now Jill and Ray (from Dardanup Heritage Park and Museum). I’ve already provided links to Dina’s service and will do so for the other businesses once I obtain their permission.

I have sold some things to Mike and, this morning, a ute-load of ‘goodies’ from the sheds to Jill and Ray. Jill, whose late husband, Gary, began the heritage enterprise some years ago, now runs the museum with employees like Ray, and a team of volunteers. She is a delightful woman whose enthusiasm for some of the objects was contagious today. Jill likes items that can tell a story and this, to me, is invaluable and I feel privileged to be able to contribute to the stories her museum tells.

Ray, a big, strong, no-nonsense sort of man, single-handedly lifted everything from milk cans to a marble-topped vanity, to an old ice chest, into the back of his ute. Ming and I helped of course but we were distracted by the fascinating information Jill and Ray shared about each of the smaller bits and pieces. And I was able to provide some history of this farm to them too because I knew a bit about Anthony’s family’s predecessor from what Anthony has told me over the years; I also knew various dates.

Anyway, after the ute was full, we had a coffee break and I showed Jill some of the inside-the-house stuff – the hat box full of hats; the roll-top desk; an antique mirror; an old singer sewing machine, the old print we found in one of the sheds etc etc. and bits and pieces of very nice, but chipped, china. Just as we’d done with the shed contents, we agreed on prices for some things and I donated others.

Here are some pics of what will now be at the museum. I am going to be allowed to write something about Anthony’s history which will be displayed in the dairy section of the museum with the milk cans. I raced into town this afternoon to tell Anthony that, if he sold some milk cans to the Dardanup Heritage Park, he would go down in history because I would write something about him.

Anthony: How much money?
Me: Heaps!
Anthony: We need to check with xyz.
Me: Rubbish, Ants – they are your milk cans!
Anthony: Okay….

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Okay so I am making some money from this massive cull, but I am also making friends with some really knowledgable people who know the difference between silver-plate and sterling silver (surprisingly difficult to tell sometimes); antique and just plain old; rare and common. I don’t even think Anthony would have known what was in the sheds; after all, he came here at 23 and proceeded to milk cows nonstop for decades.

The most hilarious thing that has happened so far is to do with the old copper washing machine that the heritage people were interested in. I got some advice from someone who said it could be worth $1,000 so I emailed Jill a couple of weeks ago with that quote and she didn’t reply so I got all paranoid-worried and apologised if the price seemed inflated. I subsequently got advice from Mike that it would only be worth $200 max. How embarrassing! But today, we all realised that the stupid copper was cemented to the floor of the wash house so would be impossible to retrieve anyway. Lots of laughs!

Me: Do you want me to get the Dardanup Heritage Park people to come and have a chat with you about the past?
Ants: With Ming too?
Me: Yes.
Ants: Good idea, Jules.

I am not sure how the same heart can splinter but still sing at the same time. This describes my paradoxical experience of the last several weeks since my decision in January to tackle the enormous job of decluttering, selling, finding, giving, keeping, organising over a century’s worth of stuff.

It isn’t over yet; there are still the old photos and documents to get through but it is a beautiful thing to have clear spaces that hold their history inside the dust of imagination.

Thank you for today, Jill – thank you for the hug.

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On realising why I woke up miserable yesterday morning when I should have been happy ….

Yesterday evening I suddenly realised why the morning had been so blah, and the reason for this is going to sound absolutely ridiculous. But here goes:

The day before yesterday, Dina, from chaostoclear.com.au, came over for the final big job here – Ming’s extremely cluttered (but otherwise beautiful) shed that Anthony and I had renovated for him several years ago so that Ming could have his own space and some independence. Here are the before-and-after shots:
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After Ming’s shed was done (Dina never stops until it is done!) and we all had coffee and a chat, Dina hugged us and left but, even though I knew we would see her again after the holidays, I felt bereft! Maybe that is what happens when a problem is resolved? You find yourself in an enormous cavern of space (and for me this was both literal and figurative) in which you feel strangely lost.

Thankfully I woke up this morning in a much more appropriate mood, extremely happy with what we have accomplished, and full of incentive to maintain the new order of things. The garage sale is something I need to advertise pronto and I am really looking forward to this as it’s a wonderful opportunity to cull everything from old blazers from my university days, to old bicycles, to Ming’s lego, to bric-a-brac, to books etc. And now that I’ve met the Dardanup Heritage Park people, I have a good idea of what they might want so I will donate some items and sell others. One of the things that appealed to me about their museum’s philosophy was the way in which they enjoy displaying objects in a way that tells a story of the past in a personal way.

Here are some of the items that will go to the museum:

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Anyway, back to the strange sense of misery I felt yesterday morning: it is probably due to the exhaustion of being so driven to declutter; the extraordinary success of doing so which still seems miraculous to me (I could never, ever have done all of this without Dina); and the incredible journey back in time to an era preceding Anthony and even preceding his mother, affectionately known as ‘Gar’. Strangely, the moments of nostalgia I’ve experienced during the last several weeks of this adventure have mostly been due to memories of Gar and her stories about her own past shared with me over coffee and timtams or else a gin and tonic. She was a pivotal figure in my young life, this 83-year-old woman who commanded the whole household and dairy enterprise with a slight wave of her formidable walking stick, and encouraged my teenage heart in its infatuation with her son, Anthony. On her deathbed she said (after a couple of days of not saying anything and I know this because I was there), “Look after Anthony.” And I have, just as he has looked after me.

When I began this post, I thought I had a simple answer for yesterday morning’s misery but now, having written it out like this, I can see clearly why the whole adventure with Dina has been so cathartic and yet so bittersweet but, ultimately, absolutely beautiful.

I had to go back in time in order to go forward in time. So many memories, and artefacts of other people’s memories, have touched and intrigued me and now, with Dina having finished the big jobs, I have time and space to reflect, pause, re-imagine! Hindsight thoughts are particularly interesting.

Oh shut up, Julie, and go to bed!

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