Tricks of the Trade: Storing Our Souvenirs

This summer’s Prairie Adventure is crashing in at our door.

blink.  blink.

And the car will be loaded and we will be on our way.

(I only wish packing a car for a two week trek was that painless.  I really do.)

Last year I saw this idea on Pinterest and I snagged it for last spring’s Harbor Island vacation.

First, I purchased a plain wooden suitcase-looking box at Hobby Lobby.  (It was only about $6 with my 40% off coupon.  Man, I love that store.)

Next, I painted the box.

Harbor Island’s box has a yellow coat.

Then we packed the box in the car and took it along on our vacation.  I stashed a few Sharpies inside the wooden suitcase.  In the afternoons we would write a few words or draw a couple of pictures on the inside of the box.  Memories of places where we ate or funny stories from that day’s adventures.

Inside the box goes every treasure any one of us deems box-worthy.  A tiny jar of beach sand.  Brochures from places we visited.  The tiniest little horseshoe crab shell we discovered on the beach.  A few special shells.  Ticket stubs from our lighthouse journey up and up.

You know – the flotsam and jetsam of vacation memorabilia.

Last week I picked up our little travel suitcase for our Prairie Adventure.

Laura Ingalls’ box is blue.  (I wanted them to look nice together when they are stacked on top of one another post-trip.)

Bergen and I have prepped several small bottles to gather dirt from Laura’s birth place and Plum Creek.  Bergen also wants to collect some water from Silver Lake.  We’ll toss in whatever other treasures speak to us along the way.

Who knows what we will find and what we will collect.

But we do know that it will all be tidily contained and easily accessible for enjoying as memories when the trip is completed and we’ve settled ourselves back home.

I think I’ll gather some prairie grass and perhaps a gravestone rubbing or two.

I like the idea of not losing all that we collect and not stuffing them into a container where one day I am tempted to toss them out.  And I like the look of them stacked together and dated, ready for pulling out and walking through again with the kids.