All So Delicious

I've been thinking about button jars. My great-grandmothers kept button jars. My grandmothers kept button jars. My mother keeps a button jar. Magical, practical, and everlasting, button jars are home to the daily kindnesses of family. Buttons can enchant the child fancy, mend the worn shirt, embellish the artistic creation. I started a button jar for my niece, Sarah, when she was six years old. Twelve years later, I cherish the bright button bracelet she handcrafted. It was the last present she ever gave me.

Rummaging around my sewing room yesterday, I came across the old cylindrical tea tin one of my grandmothers kept her buttons in. The words Tenderleaf Tea is Also Delicious are boldly embossed across the top of its rather plain lid. I smiled at the words 'also delicious' and wondered what word could possibly carry more import than delicious when describing a prime cup of tea. (Steeped, perhaps, eh?)

I tugged off the lid and buttons spilled across the ironing board surface. Old tea-dusted buttons become markers in time. I've been told that the sea-green blue button belonged to my great-grandma's dress. I conjure up a picture in my mind's eye. The round, white petal-dome button belonged to a summer blouse my grandma wore. I remember the feel of the crisp white cotton on my face when she hugged me. The red-ringed 'Happy Birthday to You' button belonged to my mother when she was a child. She received it from her sunday school teacher and her eyes lit up today when I mentioned it to her.

A simple and practical tradition, Button Jars bring joy and the comfort of knowing home always.