The coffee can is storage for multiple items; its diversity is far reaching.
My mom had a print by a Tennessee artist, Lee Roberson, called Home Sweet Home. A robin is building a nest in an old Maxwell House coffee can. God’s creatures even find uses for those discarded cans. My dad had a line of those cans in his workshop. Nuts, bolts, nails, big screws, little electrical gadgets, and even grease rags were just a few of the mysterious things Dad tucked into those cans. For some reason, my Dad seemed to know the contents of those cans even though he did not label them.
It may be in the DNA or something, but I can’t seem to part with an empty coffee can. Like my Dad, I seldom mark what is inside of them either. Sometimes a lid disappears but there is always use for the can anyhow. …
View original post 291 more words