Mr. DD and I have many differences of opinions and habits, whether it’s thoughts on raising a child (yes, you are responsible for insuring your child eats lunch, even if he hasn’t told you he’s hungry yet), to kitchen hygiene (using a dish rag on the counter and not wringing it out and then letting it fester in the sink cannot even be considered “helping out” in the kitchen).
But one thing we do have in common is an appreciation for certain antiques and heirlooms. We are no means the kind of couple that would ever spend a weekend “antiquing” at the markets. One of us would certainly end up murdered – or at the least, maimed – by the other, but occasionally we have oohed and ahhed over the listing in a auction flier, specifically furniture.
Recently, I went to a household auction that listed several desirable objects. Usually I go to snoop because antique pros are always willing to pay top dollar over what Joe Blow can if they know it’s something they can sell for a profit. I understand they are in a business, but it sucks in a way because they aren’t looking for something to enjoy for themselves.
At this auction, one of the pieces I was attracted to was a “dough trough”. It looks like a bench set up on legs with a lid. At one time there was an auger-type mixer inside and they would blend the dry ingredients for bread, add water and then the family matriarch would move it to a smaller section inside the trough to rise.
I fell in love with the piece and it’s authentic worm holes (no minimum wage worker was hitting it with a pick or chain like they do today to “age” wood); it’s hand planed surfaces; and it’s square hand-forged nails. It was the one item I was prepared to “win” and I kept my game face on during the bidding, while at the same time openly acknowledging the my opponent by never taking my eyes off him.
Surprisingly, even when I thought I should give up, Mr. DD (who stood behind the other man) encouraged me to keep going, which I did until the auctioneer shouted “Sold!” and announced my number. The piece will find a new home as storage for the spare bedroom now that I have it cleaned up.
This last picture is a great example of why I enjoy antiques: notice the fine vertical scrapes in the wood? Those are actually years of finger nail scratches from where the owners would lift the lid. The stories the owners of those hands could tell…