When I was younger I’d go shopping in a little gift shop that we just called “Eleanor Hutcherson’s”. I don’t know if that was the name of the shop, or if that was the name of the owner. It was near the corner of Main and Rt. 10. It was a shop that I mainly remember for the trinkets and jewelry. What can I say, my attraction to shiny things started early.
I remember shopping there with Mom, Grandmom and my sister. Both Mom and Grandmom would buy some of their jewelry there. Every once in a while, Mom would let Lorene and I pick out something special for Grandmom. I loved doing that. (Looking back, I wish I could remember what time of the year it was. I wonder if it was near Grandmom’s birthday or Mother’s Day? Mom had a way of still honoring those events without ‘celebrating’ them which other JW’s wouldn’t do. You may recall me mentioning that my Mother was not ‘raised’ a JW).
Like I was saying every once in a while, she would announce that we were going shopping for Grandmom. Usually, we would go to Eleanor’s. I didn’t rush the process. I wanted to take my time. It had to be just right. I remember these little white boxes, soft, fluffy cotton inside, propping up their treasures, all lined up on tables. I’d pour over the boxes, looking for one thing in particular. Pansies.
I remember Grandmom having items around the house with pansies on them. I have always associated pansies with Grandmom. Later I started associating poppies with her too, because I came to realize that she loved them just as much.
Mostly, though pansies were something that I’d look for when I wanted to pick up ‘a little something’ for her. Pansies were what I was looking for back then among the white boxes.
I wasn’t disappointed.
I remember her wearing them. I remember where she kept them. She kept them in a little white box in her dresser with the rest of her jewelry.
Now they live in a little white box in my jewelry chest.
Cooler weather has me getting out the afghans and comforters…
So, I started organizing the top of my bathroom linen closet…
I pulled out some more of the afghans that my Grandmother made.
Now, I had pulled out some afghans earlier when my cousin and his family visited in September. (note to self…future blog post) I wanted to make sure that they had an afghan that my Grandmother had crocheted. I have an assortment that Grandmom made for me and some that Grandmom made for my Mother. They seemed pleased to be able to pick out some to take home, and I know Grandmom would have enjoyed that too.
Afghans were always something I associated with my Grandmother. She was always crocheting or knitting. Mostly crocheting.
Afghans were draped across every chair and sofa in her house, and across every chair and sofa in my house growing up, and I think in every home of my Aunts and Uncles. There were lap afghans, and large afghans. There were patterned afghans and scrap afghans, (those that were just made from the left over scraps of yarn).
Then were were the slippers.
If you had cold feet, there was always a warm pair of slippers that could be easily whipped up to warm your feet. I still have a couple of pairs of slippers that she made. I wear them occasionally to bed if my feet are really cold, but I don’t walk around in them, because if they wear out, I know then they are gone. Sentimental, I know. But she isn’t here to replace them. She’s been gone since 1994. I have her pattern, and I can make them…but it just isn’t the same.
The very first afghan she made for me was a blue and white chevron pattern. It matched the colors of my bedroom. That afghan went with my oldest son when he moved into his apartment. Blue is his favorite color. It is only fitting it should go there.
I have a pink and white pattern that is long and covers me from head to toe. She made that to keep me warm. (She made long, huge afghans for all the tall members of my family. We have some “tall drinks” in the family!) The colors were to match the colors of our home at the time. We had the 80’s colors of pink and blue. I still use it at night, it is nice and toasty. I don’t have those 80’s colors anymore in the house though. 🙂
Do I have a favorite afghan? Hmm. I can think of memories of each of them.
I have a fond memory of one in particular. It is the white one with roses. I saw this particular pattern in a magazine and showed it to her. She had not crocheted this pattern before. I asked her if she would try it. She said she would. I remember her making the squares and laying them across her bed in an arrangement and showing them to me to ask what I thought. She had changed the pattern slightly. The centers were supposed to be yellow. She had changed them to be black, and was going to edge the whole thing in black to “make it stand out”. She also had used left-over colors of yarn she had in the flowers. She had changed the color palette of the pattern to something she thought she liked better, and wanted to know what I thought. I thought it was beautiful.
I can still mentally see us standing in her bedroom that day. Sigh.
It isn’t the warmest afghan, but it is one wrapped up with love. I found it in the closet, cause there were some places that needed mending. I’m mending them. I think it belongs out again even if to serve as a reminder of that time.
Just As I Am 