Confessions of a container fetishist... (or), the inner squirm that happens when Truly Great shoe boxes get trashed.. 

        Boxes are one of our favourite things. I'm sure many of us have memories of childhood box bliss - I made furniture out of them (my first sewing table at age 8), and Miss Kate was a wee box fiend as a child (at least then I always knew where to find her). Our very best birthday presents were the annual Great Aunts' shoe box chock full of art supplies (in the days before Michael's, this was genuine treasure). The box itself held about as much potential as its contents.

Imagine my consternation when I discovered the extent of the shoe box abuse taking place on a daily basis, and right under my nose - at the shoe shop next to our gallery. They were flattened to the floor, stomped on, kicked down the stairs, hurled into the dumpster... thence to a fate whose mystery only Poirot could untangle. 

My rescue mission began. There's now a Valley Box Rescue hotline, 'Just call Dragonfly, she'll pick up the bag...'. Phase II began with the remains of the annual gift splurge (aka Christmas with extended family and 5 children); now through the kindness of a chap in the next village (and thanks to Kijiji), I am the new owner of an old SHREDDER - to go with my hoard of saved Xmas paper.

So when your next shipment of Dragonfly Dreaming goodies arrives, you will understand why it comes in a rescued shoe box stuffed with eco-chic Recycle Mama's family Xmas memories. Please feel free to repurpose it - or compost it! 

Jars are another story, for another day...