What do you think of when you remember "Fiesta Ware?" Most of us immediately begin contemplating the gorgeous colors--indigo, butter yellow, turquoise, red--every color of the rainbow and then some.
My associations with Fiesta Ware are linked with cousinly expeditions underneath our grandma's ranch house. (Turn a group of kids loose on a ranch without supervision while their moms visit and you don't have to worry about them until it's time to leave for home.) Our great-grandparents built the ranch house, but our grandparents moved in a couple of years later and raised seven hellions of both sexes there. Which may explain the interesting things we'd find on those occasions when the almost-inaudible meows of newborn kittens would lure us into the cool and spooky depths of a foundation carved into the California hillside.
Crawling past ancient spider webs, we'd eventually find a mommy barn cat smart enough to know that our grandma dished out cold leftover oatmeal conveniently near the icehouse and a nest of spitfire feral kittens who never appreciated our best intentions.
Along with new kittens, we'd also unearth old silverware and discarded Fiesta Ware. Us girl cousins would start dragging out staples for a tea party in the apple orchard, but would get distracted by the boys, chickens, dogs, kittens, calves, flowers, lunch, uncles and/or peacocks. Over time, the forks, spoons and dishes got closer and closer to our crawl hole entrance.
I treasure the things kept from that ranch house: