The sound of the screen door slamming echoed behind me as I strolled down the porch steps. The mountains surrounded me and the smell of flowers after a light rain filled the air, unlike anything I had ever smelled before in South Georgia. I was headed to the valley to pick some Eastern Daisy Fleabane flowers.
I walked down the hill to the spot where they were in abundance and I began filling my small basket up with the flowers. I didn't know what i'd do with them, but I knew I wanted to take a photo or two of them for my blog. They'd make such a beautiful photo, I just knew it. Being a blogger, you have to kind of have an eye for the beautiful things in life. When I got my basket full enough, I headed back up to the house.
I went straight to the kitchen with the delicate flowers in hand and began searching for a jar to place them in. I found a blue Ball jar for them.
Flash forward to today. I came across a guide to see how old your Ball jars are. I began comparing carefully and I got an age estimate on this beautiful jar. 1923-1933. It was more than likely used by my great grandmother, Ethel. She probably used them during those years to can her food or maybe she used it as a vase as one point too. The thoughts are endless. But how incredible is it that her jars are still here? The same ones she used, touched, and loved are still here.
Simply amazing.
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