A friend helped me put up a couple shelves in my mudroom in order to better organize my shoes. It’s difficult to hold the level and the board, while screwing in the brackets single handed. I carefully measured my tallest boots for the bottom row to maximize space. My knee high dress boots are first, one pair black, one pair brown. Then the fleece lined snow boots, one pair black, the other cream. I bought the fleece-lined, cream pair when I was on the east coast for Christmas several years ago. They were such a bargain and I pictured wearing them every day in Herron Park walking my dog. When I packed to return to Montana, they would not fit in the suitcase so I was forced to wear them on the plane. Total lace ups from ankle to knee, insulated and hot, oh my gosh. It’s always three flights back from New York. I had those boots laced and unlaced so many times, six foot laces dragging behind me. The black pair has fake laces up the front and an easy zipper on the side so you know which ones I use more often. Next on the bottom row are my cowboy boots. A red pair, I got at the consignment shop, a black pair at least 25 years old but with new treads, one pair with turquoise stitching for dancing or dating, two brown pair – one for work and the other for riding. Then there are the Ariat ropers. The oldest pair are over 30 years old. They are all beat up and wear Army Navy bicolored boot laces. Twice I’ve had them in the truck to take to the dump but they manage to find their way back to the shelf. So many memories of hunter jumper classes and the “fossils over fences” we had labelled ourselves, camping trips with the horses in the Adirondacks with daughters and crossing the Cornell campus when I returned for my graduate work. In a place of honor at the end of the row are my best friends, the L.L. Bean pack boots. I’ve had these boots most of my adult life. Every winter morning and evening for over 20 years they joined me in farm chores: feeding sheep, cleaning horse stalls, carrying water, and tending chickens. I had a tortoise cat that would follow me each day to the barn. She’d jump in and out of my boot tracks all the way up the long drive. The liners could be pulled out, if they got damp, and dried by the wood stove. They look tired and worn but are as faithful and protective as my German Shepherd Dog.
The second shelf is only 12” tall. I started with lining out my steel toed work boots. These I now use for inspecting over a thousand acres of hay each year. Originally, Cornell purchased them for me as protective equipment while I worked on a biomass research project. I smile when I hold them and examine the repair job visible only to me. Aries was a puppy the summer I had that job. The boots were only days old when she decided they were a chew toy as I slept. The ankle padding and top grommets had been neatly removed by scissor like teeth. Thankfully my supervisor could not see the damage under my boot cut jeans. Eventually, they were restored good as new. Next are my hiking boots, they haven’t seen as much wear as I’d like. They are a reminder to take some time off next summer. Rubber bottom moccasins sit alongside the hiking boots. They definitely look brand new. My mother bought them for me and my daughters one Christmas. Mud is an issue on the east coast but rarely in Montana. Maybe I’ve worn them twice but they are from my mom and I see them as a symbol of wanting me warm and dry. Next are a variety of clogs: red patent leather for the holidays, Ariat western, brown suede with a buckle, plain black and fleece lined. These are for the office in the winter when I change out of snow boots.
The top shelf holds my dress shoes. I should just leave them all upstairs for as much as I wear them. A single, agriculture agent doesn’t have a lot of opportunities for heels. Maybe I just like to look at them and imagine pulling on stockings and fancy shoes. Several of these were purchased for special events and I remember them fondly. I go back to pulling on long gloves, a gown from Madrid, a wedding feast and bottles of champagne. I arrange three pairs of sneakers towards the end of the row. One pair is dedicated to mowing the lawn. The lining is falling out and grass stains cover the toes. My gym sneakers are reserved for indoor activities and never touch the soil. The last pair make me chuckle. I have never liked them. The advertisement said that the sloping sole and rounded heel helps strengthen leg muscles as you walk. I have always felt off balance in them and afraid I’m going to twist an ankle. But of course, they remain on the shelf because I paid good money for them. Crazy, I know. At the end, are my slippers. Fleece lined leather buddies.
The sandals have all been taken upstairs to reside in a bin until spring: some with sparkles, some rubber for rafting, and some simply to wear into town. I don’t use them regularly. Owning a horse and working in agriculture does not lend itself to open toes shoes very often. The only boots that rest up in the attic near the sandals now are the leather, knee high lace ups I had in high school. I have never been able to let them go. They have been meticulously oiled and tended. I slid them on yesterday. Yes, 45 years later and they can take me back to Tully in a nano-second. I wore them my first year of college when I was so homesick. Funny, that was 120 miles away and here I am over 2,500 miles away now.
My shoes remind me where I have been and how I became the person I am today. I cant say I am a fashionista. My wardrobe has been practical and durable. I think this is a reflection of me. I am down to earth, steady, centered and occasionally red open toed with sparkles. I challenge you to look at your shoes with an eye on what they say about you. Are they piled high in boxes to be worn once and then tossed aside? Or are they your closest amigas traveling with you on your path? There are women’s shelters who need your no longer treasured shoes. I find great satisfaction donating my previously worn items to them. I invite you to share this pleasure.
Have a wonderful day.
