I do consider myself to be very lucky to have had her in my life.
She was a North Devon Farmers wife who had a hard life. She worked endlessly. Her stories were amazing.
The daughter of a Headmistress and coming from a somewhat gentile life she fell in love with a tall farmer and so she became the glue that held the family together.She was a strict Methodist all her life and I know she prayed on her knees beside her bed every night until she died. I used to peep through the crack in the door when I was growing up to listen who she was praying for!
.During the war she opened her home on the farm to three evacuees. One of them called Charlie arrived from Inner London aged two. And he stayed with Grandma and her family until he was eleven. It broke both their hearts when he had to return to his home in London.By then he could drive the tractor,help with the haymaking and work around the farm. A long way from the little boy who had never seen a cow!
My mother always said it was like losing a brother, and those words became so true a little later on. Poor Grandma lost both her sons when they were just forty years old. Such sadness she had to bear. She had already lost her beloved husband Mark when I was just two and that's when she came to live with us.
The story goes that when her farm was sold there was so much stuff they ploughed a deep trench in one of the fields and buried it there. I can not imagine having to leave everything you have loved so much in such a fashion. Every time I see an old tractor seat I think of that trench. Now they are so collectable.
So Grandma changed her way of life but she still remained the glue ... only this time to her Grandchildren. Sadly my parents were not blessed like her with a happy marriage and she became the one my brothers and I turned to. A true port in a very stormy ocean.
She loved boys best ..... I did not imagine that it was just a fact. I think being the youngest I probably tried her patience greatly. But her solution was to keep me busy and my goodness she did. I was taught to bake,sew,crochet,rug make,darn, make army corners when bed making, turn sheets from side to middle. In fact the list was endless.
I am so grateful to her. Her attitude of thrift and downright common sense serves me well every day.
And here is a photo of her in her eighties with her beloved little dog.
I have been busy today finishing off the two blankets I have been working on. They are so different.
I am definitely going to continue rolling all my small balls of wool into one large one. The blanket I made like that is fun and colourful and finished!
My favourite finishing touch --- a little picot edging.
All rolled and ready to keep some knees warm this winter. Granny love. Lappycuddlyghan love!
Now, that was easy really trebles round and round.
Not so of the hexie Granny. I enjoyed the hooking. I was interested that even though I thought I was following my Dear Daughter In Laws lead with colours and blends I can see clearly where her lovely hexies ended and mine began.
I googled how to turn all those hexagons into a rectangle so that I could work the border. I found out how to do it. I read about it, thought about it and then decided not to worry about it at all and just follow Chalky instincts.
Half way through hooking the border I thought maybe it was a kink too much. A wave too much in fact just too much. But I was on a mission to finish it. My lovely little family are coming for their last holiday before leaving for Dubai next week so I need to clear the decks. I need to cook chocolate cakes and favourite food. So curly whirly became absolutely fine. Very different but absolutely fine.
The same little picot edging.
A fatter roll by far -- such pretty colours and a collaborative venture that might have to last me a while!