A special box.

I love reviving old boxes, and take great pleasure to restoring life to damaged boxes. Since I am a rescuer of sorts, this really trips my trigger. Samsonite and I had the opportunity to restore a box on our recent foray down to the Troutdale/Gresham area of Oregon. Unfortunately, some animal had chewed through the pouch and it had filled with water, since it was perched on a tree branch out of sight. The soaked stamp holder, a baby sock, had marinated the stamp for quite a while! The well-slimed logbook was a complete loss.

marinated and slimed

While we couldn't save the logbook, we were able to provide fresh zips, a new logbook, and a hair tie to hold the pouch in a desirable position to keep rain from filling it again. Restoration is definitely satisfying.

I also really enjoy bringing sentimental boxes back to life. Yesterday, I planted a box to commemorate a special time spent with my parents when I was a new-boxer. A mystery microbox had been planted at a dilapidated historical marker deep in farmland outside of Raymond. Originally planted by an old friend, the box had gone missing, was re-carved, then was lost again. The site has since been renovated, as I discovered on our planting reconnaissance a few months ago. 

I had the pleasure of finding  the original, which was a mystery box, with my parents. My mom sat in the passenger seat and figured out the location - we had spent a lot of time in this part of Washington when I was a child and tween, so she figured it out in no time. When we arrived, my dad and I busted out of the car to see who could find the box first. It is a sweet memory of my parents, who are both now gone. 

this feels like it was just yesterday

So, equipped with a new box, cleverly disguised as a rock (which I will post about shortly!), we set out to find the perfect spot at the site. The historic story is quite interesting: Dr. William Kiel and his family, back in 1855, had been planning to make the trek out West, and no one was more excited than his 19 year old son Willie. Unfortunately, Willie fell desperately ill just prior to the family departing, and made his father promise to take him on the trip, even if he died. It was so sad that he died days later. So, good to his promise, Kiel packed up his son in a vat of whiskey, and carried him all the way to Washington. The family stopped in (what is now) Menlo and buried him there. The story, and Willie, are considered somewhat of a legend, and he has been referred to as the 'pickled pioneer,' if you can believe that.

His final resting place can be seen from the marker. 

As always, I hope this box lasts a while. And, true to form, if it goes missing, I will want to try again. 

And the obsession continues. :)