I don’t know how that tiny snail shell lasted so long without crumbling to pieces among all those buttons in the old tin, but there it was, its pearly shine demanding that I pay attention.
I’ve been slowly emptying the tin of buttons for over 20 years, one button at a time, as I need them. I feel like I’ve seen the shell before, but it never called out to me like it did yesterday as I was sifting through the tin to find the smallest buttons to sew on Shekinah, my latest fabric painting.
This morning I placed the shell inside the bone, which sits on the window sash in front of my sewing machine.
The deer bone created a tunnel of light for the shell, so long in the tumult and darkness of the old Victorian Button Tin.
How amazing.
THanks Kathleen!