You only have to browse a few lovely blogs or glossy magazines to know how deep rooted our attachment to objects can be. We spend hours hunting out that particular tone of blue in a vase, the painting that will look just right over the fireplace, or the teacup that we're most comfortable using every morning.
But sometimes these objects take on a different importance, they become something more than the materials used to make them.
Recently my youngest son decided, in a moment of uncharacteristic tidyness, to sort his room, and proceeded to eject on to the landing piles of things that he had grown out of. I applauded his ability to take big decisions, but when I started to pack up the displaced objects, I found I had a problem.
Among the pile were a lot of books whose titles hid more behind their words than just a story. They held memories of rainy afternoons in front of the fire, precious moments at the end of the day before going to sleep, progress made in leaps and bounds while learning to read. Shared laughter over a funny poem, and shared disbelief at an outlandish tale.
So instead of sensibly finding new homes for this pile of paper, many books have been lovingly put away , protected in tissue paper and heavy trunks. It helps that we have a large barn to store stuff but even though I know why I did it, I'm still not convinced it was the right thing.
So, to keep or not to keep, to grow attached or to use and forget.
When do you decide to throw things out?
photos 2 Dr Zeuss 3 Beatrix Potter