Following the thread of nostalgia from my last post, this small shelf that crowns the guest bedroom door displays some treasured gems. Not valuable in monetary worth, they are nonetheless priceless to me because they are mementos from my childhood. The Big Golden Book of Poetry was read countless times; my siblings and I adored the illustrations and can even now repeat some of the verses. The doll has more of a story. When I read the Little House books by Laura Ingalls Wilder, I fell in love with the life and the time that she lived. In one of my first remembered bursts of creative needlework, I was passionate to recreate Laura's ragdoll, Charlotte, right down to her yarn braids and red mouth. (I think too that I was affected by the fact that Laura's acceptance of a corncob doll as a loved plaything left her enraptured with the gift of a rag doll. Although packages were plentiful under our tree, none of my Christmas gifts had ever overwhelmed me in such a manner). Anyway, my Charlotte was completely hand stitched and assembled by my inexperienced fingers; afterwards I never played with her but she was lovingly cared for through the years.
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