The creation of My Mothers Attic began on a small farm in southern Arizona, accessible only by a narrow dirt road, that caused swirls of dus...read more
The creation of My Mothers Attic began on a small farm in southern Arizona, accessible only by a narrow dirt road, that caused swirls of dust to rise high in the air, whenever a vehicle approached or passed by. The tanker that came each day to collect the milk produced by the resident dairy cows threw up so much dust, it looked like a blanket had been thrown in the air. Whoever saw an approaching vehicle first, would call out "someone's coming".
I only realized much later in life that this small farm planted itself deep in my subconscious, shaping my thoughts, steering my path. From the time I was a tiny little toddler being guided up the walk to the farmhouse by my grandfather, I was under its influence.
Recently, while emptying the attic of my parents' home, I was reminded of what my grandparents said, probably on a daily basis: "never throw anything away; this store offers those items and many more along with 100% satisfaction. Thanks for looking at My Mother's Attic.....Enjoy
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