Scott's Vintage Toys

06/13/2026

I was thinking today about all the comments, prayers, and kind words so many of you left last night.

One verse that kept coming back to my mind today was Romans 8:28.

And we know that all things work together for good to them that love God...

It says all things.

Not some things.

But I don’t believe that means all things are good. Some things are painful. Some things are confusing. Some things can knock the breath out of you for a while.

And when you’re right in the middle of pain, whether it’s physical pain, grief, fear, loss, or something nobody else even knows you’re carrying, sometimes that pain can cover your eyes. You may not see any good in it today. You may not see it tomorrow. You may not see it next week, or even for a long while.

That doesn’t make us weak. That just makes us human.

But I still believe God can work through things we would have never chosen.

Reading so many of your comments reminded me again that everybody is carrying something. Some are dealing with sickness. Some are grieving. Some are caring for family. Some are worried about tomorrow. Some are smiling in public while fighting battles at home.

And maybe one of the ways God works good through hard things is by softening our hearts toward other people.

Because at the end of the day, we weren’t put here just for ourselves. We were put here to love, encourage, serve, and help carry one another when we can.

Maybe that’s part of why these old toys, Christmas memories, flowers, and little pieces of childhood have meant so much to me. I can’t tell you how many times someone has walked through and said, “This is my childhood at Christmas.”

And maybe that’s because memory can be a comfort too.

Sometimes an old toy, an old song, a strand of lights, or a simple flower can remind us that there was still goodness back there, and there can still be goodness ahead.

I hope somehow, in some small way, this encourages somebody else too.

I’m sharing one of my favorite pictures from last year tonight. The flowers were out, the waterfall was going, and the corner had that bright summertime feel I love so much. This is my encouragement, and a reminder of what I love about my little piece of Mayberry on the corner in New Hope, and hopefully, what we can keep adding to in the days ahead.

06/12/2026

The Long Silence

I’m sorry for such a long caption tonight, but there really isn’t a short way to say all this.

If you’ve wondered why I’ve been so quiet lately, or why the corner hasn’t looked like itself this year, I thought I'd take a moment to explain.

I had back surgery on January 28th and honestly thought I would be back on my feet in time to enjoy spring, plant flowers, take pictures, share stories, and get back to all the things I enjoy most.

I was looking ahead to my ,spring flower season.

I was already thinking about getting the corner looking good again, after the grey winter season.

I was already looking forward to sharing pictures, memories, and conversations with all of you.

Instead, what I thought would be a straightforward recovery turned into one setback after another.

Ironically, just before things turned so bad, I had started feeling hopeful enough to post a couple of playful pictures again, including one from down by the ferns at the creek. I honestly thought I might finally be easing back into things.

But that very same week, the pain came back with a force I can hardly describe. It led to multiple ER visits, my first ever A-fib episode from a severe pain event, where they shocked my heart back to rhythm, and eventually the discovery of a fluid/seroma problem in a very difficult spot near the nerve sac in my back.

Because of that, they had to completely reopen the large incision from my back surgery, remove fluid, and address the seroma. During that surgery, I had a dural tear, and spinal fluid leak, that changed everything about my recovery.

From there, I was left dealing with nerve problems affecting my leg and foot, a much longer recovery than expected, and then, as if all of that wasn’t enough, a freak accident caused a fall that badly broke my wrist and required another surgery with a plate and screws.

Every time it felt like I was finally turning a corner, another domino seemed to fall.

Looking back, it’s honestly hard to believe how much has happened in such a short period of time.

One of the hardest parts of all of this has been missing spring.

Anyone who knows me knows how much I look forward to flowers every year. I love seeing things bloom, sharing bouquets, talking with people who stop by, and watching the corner come alive again after winter.

This year, spring came and went while I was in hospitals, doctor’s offices, and recovery.

If you’ve driven by and noticed things didn’t look quite the way they normally do, now you know why.

What I’ve missed most, though, isn’t the flowers themselves.

It’s the people.

I’ve missed the conversations.

I’ve missed the stories.

I’ve missed hearing memories shared about peoples favorite childhood, and life stories.

I’ve missed seeing familiar faces stop by.

I’ve missed hearing a horn blow from somebody driving past, and waving, maybe hollering my name from their car.

Last year we had a lot of fun sharing those memories together here, and I enjoyed every bit of it.

The truth is, I’ve thought many times about getting on here and posting something.

But between the surgeries, recovery, and everything else that has happened, I simply haven’t had the physical or mental energy to do it.

I didn’t want to just throw up a picture and disappear again.

I wanted to be able to enjoy the conversations that come with it.

What has touched me more than I can put into words is learning how many people have been thinking about me during all of this.

Through family, friends, cards, messages, and well wishes, I’ve been reminded how fortunate I am to be part of such a caring community.

To everyone who has prayed for me, checked on me, sent a card, or asked about me through family and friends, thank you.

That kindness has meant more than you know.

The good news is that little by little, things are improving.

Recovery has been much slower than I ever imagined, but I’m moving forward.

I’m not where I hoped I would be by now, but I’m a lot farther along than I was a few months ago.

Spring may have gotten away from me this year.

But I’m still looking forward to fall.

I’m still looking forward to Christmas.

And I’m still looking forward to seeing old friends again.

The corner isn’t going anywhere.

It’s waiting on me just like I’ve been waiting on it.

Thanks again for your prayers and your kindness.

Scott

03/28/2026

That little peach tree was loaded and beautiful, and then life happened.

A hard frost got it bad enough that I finally cut it way back and just hoped it might come again.

Now look at it.

Already reaching back toward the sun, already showing little signs of new peaches, already trying to live.

Funny how often life works that way. Sometimes we get cut back harder than we wanted, and sometimes even coming back, things need a little straightening out.

But life still pushes forward.

And sometimes that’s enough to keep you believing.

03/27/2026

Was scrolling through some pictures from last year and came across this one,

Those zinnias framing that old Orange Crush sign.

Most of you know, I always look forward to Christmas and everything we do with the toy exhibit, but this time of year is just as special to me.

I’ve always loved my flowers.

There’s just something about getting them going again, watching them come in, and seeing that color come back to life.

And honestly, one of my favorite parts has always been sharing them.

I’ve had folks stop by just to pick up a few, giving young guys flowers for their girlfriends, husbands taking some home to their wives, even putting together a bouquet or two for someone’s dinner table.

That’s as much fun to me as anything.

Seeing this picture got me looking forward to getting back over there and doing at least a little of it again this year.

It might not be like I usually do

but I’m sure looking forward to it.

03/25/2026

I felt good enough to take a walk down my trail today and noticed the ferns starting to wake back up.

Years ago I named this little spot Fern Valley. It’s one of my favorite places back here, because before long this whole patch will be full of ferns.

Right now it’s just beginning, and I’ve always loved that part , the quiet renewal of things coming back to life.

I noticed Mrs. Claus, still packed away from last Christmas and thought she made a pretty good, funny little surprise for the picture.

Maybe that’s fitting too. Spring is the beginning again, and from here we’ve still got summer, fall, and then the party we love and call Christmas at the end of the year.

03/23/2026

Hey friends, just wanted to check in real quick.

I honestly thought I’d be back up and running a few weeks after surgery, but here we are about two months in, and it’s been a little tougher road than I expected. Had a couple setbacks along the way, even one that put me back in the hospital for a bit.

Been working hard in physical therapy and just taking it one day at a time right now. Haven’t been on here much, but I’ve been thinking about y’all and looking forward to getting back out there.

The other day, I felt good enough to ease down to the creek for a little while, and I ran across something I hadn’t thought about in years.

An old chair, tucked back in the brush.

I carried that chair down there in my early thirties.

Back then, I’d run those trails early in the morning with my Walkman on, listening to the like's of Zig Ziglar, Napoleon Hill, Earl Nightingale, filling my head with ideas about what I was going to build and where life was headed.

And I can promise you this, if you’d told me back then I’d be doing a toy and Christmas place every year, I would’ve said you were crazy.

After the run, I’d sit right there in that chair, read a little, and just ponder, and think.

Standing there the other day, seeing that same chair again after all these years, it stopped me for a minute.

Because the truth is, life didn’t follow al those, original plans.

And I’m thankful it didn’t.

If it had, I might’ve never slowed down enough to see the things that really matter,
never built what we’ve built out here,
never met so many of you,
never found the joy in things I didn’t even know were coming.

Some of the best parts of life aren’t the ones you map out ahead of time.

They’re the ones that show up, and change you along the way.

And sometimes, you don’t even realize it until years later, standing in the same spot, looking at an old chair.

Anyway, just wanted to say hey.

Hoping it won’t be too long before I’m back out there seeing everybody again.

02/26/2026

I just want to thank everyone for the thoughts and prayers over these past few weeks. The kindness and encouragement have been truly appreciated.

This old corner has been a little quieter for a while as I’ve taken some time to slow down and focus on healing, but I’m grateful to be moving forward and feeling stronger day by day.

With spring just around the corner, I’m genuinely excited about the months ahead, with the flowers returning, the lights glowing, and looking forward to more of you stopping by as the year unfolds.

Same corner. Same heart. Looking forward to the season ahead.

01/28/2026

Years ago, after a bad accident and a long recovery, what started as a toy and Christmas exhibit for the community was born. It wasn’t planned. It simply grew into something joyful that brought back memories and gave people a reason to stop by and smile.

From that, friendships formed, and over time a small, genuine community has grown around it.

Recently, a long-standing back issue from that same accident has finally come to a head. Tomorrow morning I’ll be heading in for surgery to get to the root of it, and I’ll be quiet for a few days while I recover.

Any prayers would be truly appreciated. I’ll be back soon, and I’m grateful for each of you.

Scott

01/28/2026

01/26/2026

If these walls could talk, they’d tell stories most people never hear.

Layers of paint covering decades of welding smoke, bondo dust, primer, and late nights. Cars came in tired and broken , and rolled back out with their dignity restored.

I’ve always admired how Scott Jacobs chased the impossible with a paintbrush, making chrome look so real you almost expect it to reflect back at you.
The two Harley pieces on this wall are his work, chrome painted so convincingly it feels alive.

And right under this same roof, we chased that same perfection, spraying candy colors on Harleys/ Hogs, along with muscle cars that demanded patience, skill, and respect.

That same pursuit lived here too.
Not on canvas, but in steel, hands, patience, and persistence.