This is the little cast iron stove my mother gave to me as a young girl. I have it by the kitchen sink as a daily reminder of play times long past and a lady who bought a stove for her daughter because it reminded her of her childhood ... where she learned to cook on an old iron stove. They lived on Long Island Sound in New London CT. She remembered a retired ballet dancer who was visiting for the summer. The lady had gained some weight but had not lost her spirit nor her love for leaping... and she demonstrated her talents with great gusto and prowess. The lids on the old stove would leap and rattle with her moves as if it was dancing with her. I loved her memory. I love my little reminder.