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Though the calendar says March and yesterday marked the first day of spring, winter isn’t quite ready to loosen its grip on the Midwest. Feeling a bit of cabin fever (or maybe I actually had a fever?), I was inspired by vintage images of sunny days and vinyl records.

With my hair in a casual top knot (no sock bun needed for this mop!) and the coziest sweater I could find, I dug into my mom’s killer record collection in search of good tunes and old friends. And by killer collection, I mean my mom has more than 20 Bob Dylan records, Jefferson Airplane, a handful Led Zeppelin, two Grateful Dead, a few from the Rolling Stones, Michael Jackson and… well, you get the drift.

Sifting through a personal record collection is so much more inviting than hitting a record store. I love the raw, tattered edges and dusty scent. I love seeing my mom’s maiden name next to dates scribbled in her charmingly imperfect handwriting on the sleeve. I love knowing that these all, someday, will make the transition into my own home. (I guess you’ll have to visit me if you want to take a listen, mom.)

With sun streaming through our tightly shut windows, I slipped “The Freewheelin’ Bob Dylan” onto the turntable and waited for the needle to catch the groove. My cat was digging it, too.

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See more amazing photos and read about vinyl record collectors at Dust & Groove — one of the websites I’ve come across on every list of best record blogs.

Photos by Michael Ciuni.

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