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Fond memories with farmette furniture

It's a very cold, crisp day at the farmette. Getting the Sunday newspaper was an, ahem, awakening experience with a temperature of -6C. Spring is definitely in the air, though, with a veritable cacophony of sound from all the birds that have come back already, including Canada geese, redwing blackbirds and phoebes. Last week, a neighbour who helped me canvass for the Heart and Stroke Foundation took a tour through the farmette house. As I showed her around, I was reminded of all the stories behind our eclectic collection of mainly antique(ish) furnishings. After 25 years of living together, we have accumulated some great memories along with the things we sit on, eat at and, for the cats, sprawl over. Take, for example, the Grampa chair, which lives in the sunroom. Rob sits in it every morning, starting the day with the requisite coffee(s).

​​It got its moniker from my maternal grandfather, Milton Heidt, who would take out a perfectly-sized piece of cardboard, lay it across the two wide arm rests and play solitaire for hours at a time.

Of course, besides arms, the rest is also perfectly suited to an extra hefty orange tabby who perches there to make sure the human feeder doesn't make a move without him knowing. Then, in the kitchen, there's the table Rob used as a desk when he was a kid. Here, little Robby would toil away at his sums, dreaming of the day he would meet a stunner from the back of beyond in Ontario (hahahaha). Its current function is to provide a safe place for Lilly (the eldest and smallest feline) to eat away from the two fat cats who would gobble down all her kibble in the flick of a tail.

The dining room table is a treasure Rob bought pre-me. Waaaaayyy pre-me. It was covered in dust and paint splotches, having been the place where the shop owner plunked bits and bobs for sale over the years. After cleaning it up, Rob used it as a kitchen table/office desk/catchall during his years in Toronto, where he met yours truly.

Now, we use it to dine on when the whole clan gathers. We got the chairs from the local furniture store shortly after we moved in 2012. The runner is brand new, a gift from the nieces for Christmas 2017.

Moving sideways to the living area is the Rossie chair. It was one of the pieces we inherited from our friends' cottage in Sturgeon Point. We got it re-upholstered and now it's almost as good as new. Of course, the wool tartan kind of hides the lovely green corduroy because of the need to protect it from certain furry bums who regularly take advantage of its comfort.

The chair got its name from Jane's sister, whose little green cottage (Cozy Corner) accommodated us on many memorable summer vacations over the years.

Rossie was one of a kind, with a thick mane of gorgeous hair, a razor-sharp wit and a tongue to match. A pistol, as my mother would say. She was a real fighter who lost her battle with cancer far too soon.

Finally, in our bedroom is a chest of drawers I've had since Rob and I moved in together on Osborne Avenue in Toronto in 1993.

I spied it at one of the quaint, nearly-but-not-quite-chi-chi shops on Kingston Road, just a few blocks away from home. Got it at a bargain price and barely managed to hoik it up the three stories to our boudoir.

So there you have it. A stroll through some of the farmette's fine furnishings.

Funny how inanimate objects that we see, use and sit on every day can conjure up such great memories. Until next week.

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