Of Roses and Rust

Thus far, it has been a summer of thrifty treasure hunting - a warm two months spent taking in the humid sea air while dodging in and out of antique shops along the old coast highway, a string of Saturdays spent waking far too close to dawn for yard sale-ing with the girls. Though it's mostly in pursuit of furniture "projects", I can't help adopting a few other things along the way. On a particular morning I spied a downtrodden Decoware trashcan, rusty and damp from the morning dew. It was dreary but pretty with its alluring floral motif on antique white. Slovenly cast by the wayside, it sat waiting for someone to cart it away for fifty cents.

As it happened, I was that someone. I rather foolishly and impulsively found myslef lugging this good-sized metal mess home. I remedied the grime with a soapy scrub and the rust with a little sandpaper and a fresh coat of Rust-Oleum paint. Glossy glacier blue now rims the vintage perfection of the unaltered exterior - aged off-white, delightfully shabby and bedecked with burst of sprig and petal.