Split oak baskets hold an endearing charm. They weren't created for beauty's sake, but that is their surviving grace. I have collected the large ones for years, and now have nearly a dozen, but can’t bear to part with a single one.
Most of these are nearing one hundred years in age. They were built for work. They earned their keep in the fields, on farms, and one in this photo served as a pack basket for trappers. Along the way, they took on the colors of rain and mud and light and wind and time. Many of them survived to find places of honor in museums.
While my examples aren't candidates for the Smithsonian, they remind me every day of the power of survival and the worth of a job well done.
Photo by Beth Yarbrough.
I can remember my grandfather allowing me to play in the white oak baskets full of cotton in the fields of South Alabama as a toddler. Wonder what happened to those baskets? I would love to have one now.
Many of those artisans are gone but we are lucky to have a local man here who still makes baskets. He sells them at craft fairs and art shows.