Monday, March 30, 2009
One of the things I remember vividly about her, was that she wore aprons. Not only did she wear an apron in her bakery, she also wore an apron at home, constantly.
Most all of our mothers/grandmothers, wore aprons, or "pinny's" as we English call them ;)
I was forwarded a story today from a dear friend, who thought I might enjoy....
She was correct, I am passing it along, for you to enjoy ;)
*I don't think our kids or grandkids know what an apron is.
*The principal use of Grandma's apron was to protect the dress underneath. Because she only had a few, it was easier to wash aprons than dresses and they used less material, but along with that, it served as a potholder for removing hot pans from the oven.
*It was wonderful for drying children's tears, and on occasion was even used for cleaning out dirty ears.
*From the chicken coop the apron was used for carrying eggs, fussy chicks, and sometimes half-hatched eggs to be finished in the warming oven.
*When company came, those aprons were ideal hiding places for shy kids.
*And when the weather was cold, Grandma wrapped it around her arms.
*Those big old aprons wiped many a perspiring brow, bent over the hot wood stove..
*Chips and kindling wood were brought into the kitchen in that apron.
*From the garden, it carried all sorts of vegetables.
*After the peas had been shelled, it carried out the hulls.
*In the fall, the apron was used to bring in apples that had fallen from the trees.
*When unexpected company drove up the road, it was surprising how much furniture that old apron could dust in a matter of seconds.
*When dinner was ready, Grandma walked out onto the porch, waved her apron, and the men knew it was time to come in from the fields to dinner.
*It will be a long time before someone invents something that will replace that 'old-time apron' that served so many purposes.
*Grandma used to set her hot baked apple pies on the window sill to cool, now her granddaughters set theirs on the window sill to thaw after taking them from the freezer..
*Some people today would go crazy now trying to figure out how many germs were on that apron.......I don't think I ever caught anything from an apron though........but love!!
An apron for Sunday, an apron for Monday, an apron for the garden, or Saturday's chores .
Sunday, March 29, 2009
Columbia, Tennessee is the ancestral home of the eleventh President of the United States, James Knox Polk.
Mule Day, Columbia, TN 1836.
Wednesday, March 25, 2009
Monday, March 23, 2009
I'm sure it it something most of the blogging community, has been faced with at one time or another.
My blog is a newbie, a mere four months old, and I have written a new post, almost daily.
Could be, because it was Winter months, one tends to "nest" and spend more time indoors. Or more to the truth, I enjoy writing about my own little interests, and having a place to document them. The fact that other people find them interesting, and leave lovely comments, is encouraging to say the least.
Lately, I have been working more. Once I return home, there is very little inspiration left in me to sit at the computer and write a positive posting.
Now that the weather has turned warm, I am faced with all the outside work, which needs attention, so my days take me into tackling the gardening chores.
You know how it goes....
I admire the people who consistently write new and interesting posts, everyday. Frankly, I don't know how you find the time.
I will continue to post, probably not everyday, but as often as my schedule will allow.
" Life happens ".........
Be assured, I will find the time to visit with you often. My new "blog " friends have become a valuable part of my world. Our daily chit -chats enable us to swap ideas, share advice, and even give opinions, when the need arises. It's a fulfilling and endearing manner in which to cultivate friendships.
In the meantime "Play Nice" ;)
In my imagination, this is where you'll find me.....
Friday, March 20, 2009
Tuesday, March 17, 2009
There’s a dear little plant that grows in our isle,
‘Twas St. Patrick himself, sure, that sets it;
And the sun of his labor with pleasure did smile,
And with dew from his eye often wet it.It grows through the bog, through the brake, through the mireland,
And they call it the dear little Shamrock of Ireland.
Credits: Video/you tube/shastasheene
Friday, March 13, 2009
Is it not just so gloriously suburban and romantic, to see white pillowcases and children's clothes, strung out in rows, telling us that this is a house where it's occupants are loved and cared for ?
Lacy underwear, towels and sheets, soccer shorts, table linens; it's so uninhibited, and they tell volumes about the occupants of the house they are adorning.....
This theme is repeated in other cultures. But why ?
Were we all pushed out into the garden in our prams as babies to watch the gaily-coloured garlands of washing dancing in the breeze?
Is it that there is something reassuring about linen being washed and cared for?
Is it the thought of snuggling down in a bed, or pulling on a shirt which exudes the fragrance of fresh air?
Is it the feeling of abandon and unadulterated joy we share with the clothes as they regally wave and happily flap about?
It is probably a mixture of all of these, the impressions which invoke the childhood we had (or would have liked to have had) coupled with the fact that mothers or, in past centuries, maids and washerwomen, spent many hours doing the washing, while at the same time entertaining the small children of the household.
The maid was in the garden, hanging out the clothes
When down came a blackbird and pecked off her nose.
She made such a commotion that little Jenny Wren
Came down into the garden and pegged it on again.
What's the time? - Half past nine
Hang your knickers on the line.
When they're dry, bring them in
And iron them with the rolling pin
Photo credits: Walter Crane, Wikipedia
Thursday, March 12, 2009
Winter offered a snowy cold day.
A time to make a pot of tea, and curl up with a new book.
A time to nest for one last moment.........
Time for reading by Judy Gibson
Books are the quietest and most constant of friends; they are the most accessible and wisest of counselors, and the most patient of teachers.
Charles W. Eliot
You know you've read a good book when you turn the last page and feel a little as if you have lost a friend.
Books can be dangerous. The best ones should be labeled “This could change your life.”
Some books are to be tasted, others to be swallowed, and some few to be chewed and digested.