Swept

“Out of your treasury, dear year, You squander your last blue and gold.

Your summer held no days more clear, Although they had no tang of cold.

Sweet is the air with which you’ve swept, The withered leaf along the road…”

E. Farjeon

Time sweeps me forward without question or delay…

And golden moments are gathered with the rest of the daily dust and into the past it goes. Such is the clock hand and the broom.

I grasp the handle in the palms of my hands and know what to do. A little education required, but not much. Reach back, pull forward.

My brother makes these time-sweepers. Vintage tools at the ready, willing hands at work, turning broom straw into gold…

Brooms have never gone out of style or need. An always and forever item no one even thinks of living without. A necessity in 1880, same as now.

Little hands partake in the sewing, it’s harder than it seems…

He reached for this drill, and I watched as the gears turned, no power needed except his own. I guess that’s what fascinates me most about an 1880’s living. What they knew to do, what they had to do–the pushing, pulling, tugging kind of life that left nearly everyone with extra muscle and grit.

At the end of the making, we’re left with a chore. What we’ve been asked to do since the end of Eden…Thank God, we aren’t alone.

A good, handmade broom makes it easier.

And those past golden moments are for keeps, really. Memories. Life-shapers. Testimonies. Only some of our past is for the rubbish heap. But mostly gifts to be found in the tidying- up. Lost silver coins turn up and we celebrate…(Luke 15:8)