I do not have a proper pantry in my house. Every year I dream of one, especially while ambitiously canning and trying to find a place for all the Ball jars. Right now I store our dry/canned goods in some of our kitchen cabinets, and wonder where the original housewife stored her family’s foodstuffs. Particularly since my refrigerator is where her washer/dryer used to be…. and where did she put the fridge? And how did she raise children in this house with horrid floor furnace heating in the winter? It’s a mystery I will, unfortunately, not be able to solve. It is also digressing me from my topic.
Yes. ahem. The Pantry.
After posting the previous little note to let you know I hadn’t fallen off the face of the earth, I decided to browse around my blogroll and landed on Like Mother, like Daughter where Leila is chatting about her pantry and she happened to have a picture of a pantry by my favorite artist, the late Tasha Tudor.
THAT is my dream pantry, only I know mine would have shelves of Ball jars instead of crockery (although I do like old crockery), but still, there’s something about that picture that really warms the cockles of my heart. Maybe it is because I already have a rug exactly like that. Seriously, I do. I badly need to get it cleaned and nicely stored until such a time that I can use it in a proper pantry space. And maybe, one day, I will.
But again, I’m suddenly not sure where I am going with this, so I really, really need to get some sleep. Off for now.
