First of all I must tell you that I love boxes. I really do love boxes. Just ask my mother how every Christmas as a small child I was far more interested in unwrapping and playing with the box rather than playing with the contents.
I'm slightly different nowadays. A closed box has to be opened. I spy an attractive box - and this is most boxes to me - and I have to lift the lid to know what lies within. Sometimes they are empty. Sometimes they hold random items. Frequently they conceal treasure.
This box caught my eye at my favourite brocante this morning. It's a basic cardboard box but with embellishments. Somebody has glued paper to the lid, attached handmade lace bows and sewn on buttons. Surely a box like this has to contain something precious?
And it did. Lengths of broderie anglaise lace carefully removed from old petticoats, lovingly hemmed and stored in this pretty box.
Hand worked crochet lace, beige linen mats trimmed with white cotton crochet lace from the 1940s, a wonderful crocheted dress yoke.
A black satin clutch from the 1950s still in it's original box, along with a lovely hand done cutwork dresser scarf (under the box).
And my favourite item - a tiny hand made crochet drawstring pouch containing over 100 mother of pearl buttons.
The contents of the box will be appearing in Histoires. The box itself will stay with me.