The changing of the china.

Somewhat to Mike's chagrin, we are a Family of Seasonal China. This started innocently enough (doesn't everything?) when I got pretty Christmas china with snowmen on it as a Christmas gift from my in-laws, before Grace was born. The china accumulation really started to snowball (ha!) when I was pregnant with Peter and having all sorts of insomnia. I'd shop online for baby shoes and gradually start to look at vintage dishes... and before I knew it, I started collecting a few (ok, three) patterns of vintage china. I also have one set from each of my grandmothers. So all told, we rotate between those inherited patterns, the Christmas china you see here (which has some silly additions, like the slightly menacing snowman there, as well as napkins, tableclothes, dishtowels, and a beaded trivet), some Easter china, and birthday china. Also a different version of the Easter china, which is a pattern by Anchor Hocking called "Rainbow" that was made from the early forties until the mid-sixties. The Easter dishes are pastel, and the ... summer? dishes are primary colors. The birthday china is a really fun pattern called "Ripple" by Hazel Atlas; the dishes I collect have ruffled edges and are tuquoise and white. It's the same basic vintage as the Rainbow china, but has a more sixties look. Happily, the coordinating pitchers for the Ripple pattern are cheap and plentiful (I have - dear Lord, I think I have three, plus glasses in two sizes). The Rainbow pitchers are quite collectible and I'm just not able to bring myself to pay for one. I did score some very difficult-to-find bowls for the Easter dishes this year, which means I have something like service for twelve in that version of that pattern. (Easter at my house this year!) Grace is a huge help with the changing of the china: she's careful and always has good suggestions for arranging the china in the cabinet. Peter really wants to help, but so far I have politely declined. I'm not sure whether it's comforting on some level or just excessive, but if, say, the apocalypse hits, I could provide dishes to feed the neighborhood. No paper plates for us!