DO YOU SMELL LIKE A GRANDMA?

 A couple of years ago my granddaughter remarked that, "It smells like a grandma in here". "What does a grandmother smell like", I asked? Well, she couldn't really give me a definitive answer, so I am still wondering, does a grandmother smell musty? Does a grandmother smell like lavender and rose water? Does a grandmother smell like sugar cookies? Naturally I prefer a pleasant fragrance of flowers and herbs or sugar and cinnamon. 

I have tried to recall what my grandmothers smelled like and nothing really comes to mind. I have all kinds of good feelings that surface, but no particular fragrance. My mother, on the other hand, was a perfume junkie and usually smelled of Giorgio or Chanel #5. Everyone in my family remembers that and can be taken back to her memory in a heartbeat with just a whiff.

What do I smell like? Do I offer an unforgettable odor? When my granddaughter remarked that it smelled like a grandma was she referring to me? She would admit nothing! But last week I got an e-mail from her saying that she took some children that she was babysitting over to their grandmother's house and was offered a treat of Diet Coke and Hershey's Kisses. She wanted me to know that she immediately thought of me. I smiled of course, because if my grandchildren know anything about me, other than quilts, it is Diet Coke and Hershey Kisses! I feel quite better now!

MY ANCESTOR QUILT BEGINS

I have begun making blocks for my ancestor quilt. (See this post to view the pattern) My grandmother, Mary, had eight brothers and one sister. My grandmother was the oldest child and Hilda, her sister, was the youngest. Mary was born in 1895 and Hilda was born in 1913. Their father, William Payne, was the first Royal Canadian Mounted Policeman assigned to Alberta, Canada. He settled in Mt. View in southern Alberta and there his family was raised. When I saw this quilt all made up the appearance of it took me right to the prairies of southern Alberta. The fabrics looked old and worn, just like I expect the quilts of the era looked when this family was growing up. I have heard all the stories of my great grandfather getting shot by a skunk and sleeping for weeks in the barn; and of the wolf that was stalking the chicken coop. I heard about Uncle Olof falling headfirst off the roof of a shed and into a bucket of bran mush and getting rescued by his brother. I heard about my great grandmother hiding under the bed during thunderstorms because they terrified her. And about my grandmother as a little girl fishing in a stream behind their cabin with nothing but a string and a safety-pin with a grasshopper attached, and catching their dinner without a problem. My grandmother was a storyteller, and for us she created a history and an attachment to a place we have rarely seen, but one for which we have great affection.    

 

Here are four of the blocks I have completed thus far. The last one, in blue, shows how they will be trimmed down. The dark brown will be the alternate blocks. Funny how the color changed in the different photos. The darker shade is actually more true to the color of the fabric.

 

 

Here is a picture of my grandmother, Mary Payne, as a very young woman, maybe around age 16.

 

This old photo shows Mary's brother Billy, who was a year younger than she was. It is very easy for me to get caught up in all this family history. I love it!

Along that same vein, I saw a TV show on Friday night that I loved. It is called Who Do You Think You Are? It is a new series, and last week it was about Sarah Jessica Parker. They did a genealogical search for her ancestors and followed her as she went from place to place following the clues to find her roots.

This Friday they will do Emmit Smith. Check it out! In fact, follow the link and you can watch the first episode with Sarah Jessica Parker.

BE COOL

How are you keeping cool this summer? Way back in the 1950's there was no air conditioning that I ever heard of. We would run under the sprinkler, or lay in a plastic blow up pool. Fans would be running inside, and we would be outside as much as possible. Find some shade and play in the cool grass. In the evenings I would swing high on my swingset and sing my heart out as my hair flew back and forth in the breeze.

A few times in the summer heat our family would pack the station wagon and we would head over the Peace Bridge that took us from New York into Canada to Crystal Beach on Lake Erie. This was the ultimate summer treat!

The photo above shows my grandmother, on the right, relaxing with friends in the water. She has the cute hair thingy on. I have been wondering how old these ladies are? I am guessing they are in their fifties. My grandmother was born in 1898, and this photo must have been taken in the early 1950's. Here is hoping that Grandma doesn't find out about me sharing this picture or there may be a haunting taking place. 

Grandma is the one who taught me to stop and smell the flowers, literally. When I was 18 months old I escaped from my crib during nap time and walked to my Grandmother's house. She lived  around the block from us. My mother never knew I was missing. After that Mother always walked me to the top of the street and I walked the rest of the block alone, with Grandma waiting at the bottom of the block. And I actually remember this! While walking with me Grandma taught me to look at the flowers and smell them, but don't pick! I also remember her leaning over me as I examined bugs and she would identify them by name. 

Now I am the grandma, and  I sometimes wonder if my grandchildren feel linked to me at all in the same way that I was to my grandmother? It would  be a great honor if they did, but in the hectic lives that everyone seems to live these day would they even notice that I tried to teach them to smell the flowers?  

I think my grandchildren don't worry so much about the flowers. They think "Life's a Beach"! I think my grandma could have told them a thing or two about that as well!