One More Treasure Box

The artwork atop my mother's carved wooded jewelry box is unattributed, so I will never know whose vision it was, drawing me into this strange calm world that felt so different from own. I spent many long minutes of my childhood transported into these mystical depths. Of course I was intrigued by the sparkly contents of the box -- jeweltone necklaces, sandstone earrings, dozens of blood donor lapel pins, and nostalgic Christmas brooches to complement my mom's red winter coats.

Yet even more magical to me than the treasure trove inside was this pastoral scene on top: the house, the yard, the little crooked stile, the field beyond -- and wait, is that a person there? Going into the cottage? Where was this peaceful, beautiful place that called to my heart every time I reached out to trace the carved patterns and slide my palm across the smooth surface of the inlay.
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I had a similar escapist response to this painting
that hung above the couch in our family room:

Days to Remember
by Paul Detlefsen

. . . and to this art print at my grandparents' house:

The Hope of a Nation
by James M. Haines

Additional views of my mom's treasure box

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My Great - great - grandmother's
trinket boxes & trinkets