Grandma's Curious Curios

    

     I have always been a woman who has loved her knick knacks.  I was often drawn into my Grandmother's world and felt more at home among her many hand made decorations, sentimental souvenirs and whimsical curios.  

       My father's mid century modern home and Mediterranean style furniture and velvet paintings of conquistadors and Spanish galleons, was never my style.

      The oversized, embossed satin, avocado green, couch was so big my mother's little legs would dangle off the edge and she could not reach the floor.  Let's also not forget the smokey, gold splattered, glass tiled, dining room wall and the rain lamp that everyone hit their head on. :)

      My Grandma's home was comfortable.  There were handmade lace doilies on every chair and table, and soft velvet pleated pillows on the couch.  In the bathroom she had crocheted a toilet paper cover that looked like a doll.  I was fascinated by it.  She also had a crystal bowl with little guest soaps decorated with tiny gold push pins.  It was really very clever.

 

      I would sit at her feet while she crocheted and watched As The World Turns.  It was like magic, or watching a spider weaving a delicate web.  I would just stare in wonder.

       Grandma had at one time been a hardy farm woman.  My brother who is ten years older than I remembers her before she became ill.  He told me once "God forbid that someone's chicken should wander into the yard, she'd grab him by the neck and would soon be frying chicken for dinner."  She also knew how to gather wild mushrooms from the woods and other skills most of us have lost with time.

        By the time I came into the picture Grandma had developed heart disease and diabetes.  I knew her to be a quiet, slow moving woman who always read me Bible stories and taught me how to sing "Jesus loves the little children, all the children of the world, red and yellow, black and white they are precious in his sight, Jesus loves the little children of the world."  And I always remembered.

      I always knew I couldn't jump into her lap and hang upon her neck the way I did with Grandpa.  I learned at an early age that one had to be gentle with a Grandma.

         She had a vanity table with a gold hair brush and mirror.  She wore a beautiful lilac perfume that I can still smell if I close my eyes and imagine.  Her face was always soft and powdery.  On her dresser was a little cylindrical, metal tin of "Doan's Pills".

       She looked a little bit like Aunt Bea from the Andy Griffith Show.  I remember her dressing up on Sunday in her navy blue and green dress and little pill box hat. Clutching her patent leather purse and gloves.

        I called her Mimi, I don't know why, but she told me once that she liked it, because no one had ever given her a special name before.  She bought me a white jewelry box with a ballerina that turned with the music and a picture of a ballet dancer for my bedroom.

         She and Grandpa had turned the acre of land in front of their home into a beautiful garden. Grandma was not well enough in the last years of life to do much work so Grandpa did pretty much everything.  I would hold his hand and walk through the garden every day pausing to look intently at whatever plant had bloomed.  I especially remember marveling at the giant Sunflowers.  Somehow, I always felt that little piece of earth was holy ground.

        Once I pulled out all of Grandma's newly planted Sweet William and brought them into the kitchen to show her, because I wanted to give her some flowers. She told me they were "...the most beautiful flowers she had ever seen!", and we went back outside and replanted them so she could "...keep them forever".  There are few blessings in this world as wonderful as a patient grandmother.

      We lived next door to them for the first five years of my life.  Then we moved to Long Beach to be closer to my Dad's work.  The week before she passed away she came to our new house and planted bulbs under our lemon tree in the back yard.  

      The pink flowers bloomed every year, year in and year out without much care or fuss and without fail.  And, although I have not been to that house in over 20 years I would bet money that every May the bulb's bright green shoots are pushing up through the soil.  

      Today, people everywhere are being drawn into their grandmother's worlds.  Opting for what they believe is a more traditional life.  There is even a decorating style named for it, called "Granny Core" or "Grandma Core".  I think there is always going to be a certain subset of sensitive people, who appreciate a slower, more deliberate way of living, and for many, their grandmothers represents that feeling of home and comfort.

       Do you have a grandma story to tell?  Has your grandma influenced your decorating aesthetic?  I would love to hear your comments!  I hope you are all safe from the storms and are having a lovely Saturday night wherever you are. :)